9 to 5

            to all my coworkers then and now

“…there is nothing
that will put a person
more in touch
with the realities
than
an 8 hour job.”  

-Charles Bukowski

I grew up in the service industry.  waiting on everyone else. 

there is nothing worse than waiting on everyone else.  no matter who you are and how much money you make there comes this unequivocal sense of entitlement when approached by someone in an apron and a nametag.  especially if you’ve never experienced firsthand the misfortunes of service.  and to be the recipient of such unadulterated privilege is perhaps the greatest provocation for madness. 

I’ve often contemplated the ruin of certain customers in my tenure.  some more subtle than others.  a few drops of mop water in your diet soda.  steam a scab into your latte.  even play with my ass a little before handing you your breakfast sandwich.  the cornerstone of any nutritious beginning. 

while others would receive a more gratifying convolution.  I would leap through the drive-thru window strangling the cigarette from your lips as your children route me on.  I would tackle you in the lobby after you refused to tip noting a minute imperfection in your experience and beat you to near-death with your walker. 

but my personal favorite is to arrive at work happier than I’ve ever been.  coworkers and customers commenting on my uncustomary joyousness.  then I would quietly lock the door and slowly remove the revolver in my apron pocket along with lighter fluid and a match.