"What do you mean, I'm a Methodist Slave now?" I ask angrily.
A fat blonde co-worker has claimed something absurd enough that the American in me wants to stab him. Or shoot him with a trench gun.
"I've bought your hours, you do my machines for the rest of the month." Fat Blondie says sheepishly.
He's too amused and cocky about it. My Supervisor is there. He's a tall skinny guy in glasses. He explains it better.
"He needs someone to run his machine this week while still getting paid." Supervisor says calmly.
"Am I getting paid?" I ask cautiously.
"Yes." Supervisor says calmly.
"Oh, alright. Cool." I say calmly.
Fat Blondie glares angrily at me.
"Those are my hours." He says with malice.
I grip my fists tightly and grin with bloodlust.
"Trying to make a slave, boy? I'll eat your liver. I hear human meat tastes like chicken, ya tub of lard." I say with malefic cockiness.
"Your mom sold me those hours, shut up and deal with it." Fat Blondie whines angrily.
"I need to make a phone call and scream at people. I'll be back in a few minutes." I say furiously.
I go out to the smoking area and call my mom. She answers after three missed calls.
"What do you want, don't be snippy with me, I'm in a bad mood." Mother says angrily.
"Well, I'm in a worst mood. Did you fucking somehow sell my money to someone?" I say angrily.
"What are you talking about?" Mother says nervously.
"Some fat blonde kid is claiming he owns my hours for the week, and you sold them to him." I say angrily.
"Man, stop. I'll call my brothers. And the church." Mother says with angry firmness.
I punch a pole angrily, barely feeling the pain.
"What was that?" Mother says nervously.
"I will fight for my money, mom. Any time, anywhere. I'll kill this fat kid if I have too. I fucking hate this anarchist town enough to do it." I say maliciously.
"Man, just stop. He's just trying to look good for his wife and kids." Mother says nicely.
"Tell that fat fuck to work out then. He looks like Mr.Potato Head. With fat ass legs too." I say angrily.
"Jacob, stop. Just work with him, please. You're getting paid, you're just working his line." Mother says with nervous annoyance.
"Fine, whatever. Is what it is. If I'm not getting paid, I'm robbing you. And selling your shit. You sell my money, I sell your shit." I say with cold fury.
"Jacob! Shut up, you're making me upset! Just work, you're getting paid!" Mother says, sad and angry.
She hangs up the phone. I glare at a wall, and smoke my weed vape for a bit. I don't care if I'm at work, they can't sue. It's gray matter weed. No legal framework around it. And I'm a legal death wish out of boredom and cause I'm an economic drug addict.
Fun fact, I was coached on what to do in the case of smoking gray matter weed during a livestream. The joke is simple: be a legal death wish, it'll fuck with society. In so many ways. And also, we will just make another version of weed eventually, so who cares!? Legal death wish timmmeeee!
Anyway, I walk back into work and start working. It's fine at first. Until he wants me to do a fix on his machine.
"I can't do it, I'm just a machine operator." I say calmly.
"Oh, then you suck. Heh, I'll fix it then." Fat Blondie says with smug disdain.
"Whatever, bro. I'm the brawn, you're the brains. That's how I like it at work. Make fun of me if you want, I don't care." I say, dead inside.
He glares at me intensely, surprisingly.
"No, I'm the brawn. I can beat you." He says angrily.
"But I do the physical labor, you fix the machine. That's how I'm the brawn. I do the physical labor of unloading and loading the parts. You're the brains, you fix the machine." I say sternly.
He is a mix of emotions during that sentence. Sometimes he's happy, but he is angry and ends on anger.
"So you're making me fix the machine cause you're dumb and lazy?" Fat Blondie says angrily.
"Or another Senior Operator. Or Maintenance, I don't care. I just pass it up the ladder like the process says we should." I say seriously.
"But it makes you look weak." Fat Blondie says, weirded out.
I shrug.
"I just make up for it with physical labor bro. It's only weak in the workplace. I'm physically fit bro, let's be real. I'm just chubby with a prego belly." I say cockily.
He looks me up and down, and gets mad as shit.
"So you're hot, that's why you're cocky!? Go fuck yourself, Jacob!" Fat Blondie says angrily.
He storms off. I yell to his backside "You gonna fix the machine?"
"Go fuck yourself!" Fat Blondie yells angrily.
I shrug, and tell Seniors on the radio my machine needs fixed. They don't show up for a while. I stand around and take too many breaks. As is my usual now in street level anarchy. Cause fuck it, why not? Life sucks cause of anarchy and slash or the government. Fuck Republicans.
Anyway, they catch me at my machine eating a sandwich.
"Why isn't it running?" Repo says angrily.
"Cause I don't know how to fix it." I say calmly.
"It's in warmup, I fixed it an hour ago." Repo says angrily.
"Oh, ya sure?" I say confusedly.
I start it up and he walks away. It faults out again for a new thing. Coolant fault with the engine.
"Repoooo. It broke again." I say nonchalantly.
He turns angrily to me.
"You're a Senior, fix it." Repo says angrily.
I put a hand to my chest, overwhelmed.
"Sir, I'm just a machine operator. I can't do this, I must tell them I can't run a Senior's machines." I say with polite suave.
He glares at me, throws a hand aside. And walks off muttering about how I'm a loser. I go to the radio, and call the supervisor.
"Sir, I can't be a Senior for this machine. I don't know the fixes, I'm just a machine operator." I say calmly.
"Why'd you take the shift then?" Supervisor says angrily.
"Well, it's cause my mother sold my hours like a bitch. I didn't approve of it, y'all just forced it on me." I say annoyedly.
"Don't curse. And do your job, punk." Supervisor says angrily.
"I can't, I don't know how. Somebody teach me. Seniors, help." I say sarcastically.
The Radio goes silent. For minutes on end. I go outside to my car, and notice the parking lot is nearly empty now. I look at Repo leaving.
"Did an emergency happen?" I ask confusedly.
He turns to me, dead inside.
"We're going to church, it's Sunday. Just go home, nobody's here. We aren't fixing your machines." Repo says angrily.
I shrug and do it. I go home, and come to work tomorrow. The Supervisor starts the pre-shift and sternly saying "You're fired for leaving work early yesterday, Jacob."
I shrug.
"Where's my termination papers, I need them for unemployment." I say calmly.
Government Agent Dan snaps "NO!" And drags his thumb across his throat. I smack my fist into my palm repeatedly with rage.
"It will be a battleground if you try to force me to quit. We've been through fights with me at this job before. Pick your battles, boys. Fire me or prepare the beaters for War." I threaten furiously.
The room goes cold. The Supervisor just snickers nervously.
"Just, we'll figure out the paperwork. In the meantime, work." Supervisor says nervously.
I glare at him.
"You want me to work when I'm about to be fired?" I say angrily.
I sit down in an empty chair in front of everyone.
"Fuck that, time for Civil Disobedience. If I'm fired, I sit here until the paperwork shows up. Or I'll go outside and smoke." I say with determined anger.
Supervisor just looks at me like I'm dumb and everyone laughs.
"Your funeral." Woman says with amusement.
"Whatever, I don't work for free. If I'm fired, I want the paperwork to file for unemployment stat. And it'll motivate them to file it faster if I'm sitting on my ass." I say angrily.
"It better." Woman says angrily.
Everyone just sits there in angry silence. Supervisor eventually waves everyone out.
"Just get to work, I'll deal with Jacob." Supervisor says angrily.
They all leave eventually. Supervisor looks at me with nervous annoyance.
"Last chance." Supervisor says nervously.
"I'm already fired, who cares?" I say angrily.
"Don't you want a last few hours?" Supervisor says nervously.
"No, go fuck yourself." I say bitterly.
He walks out eventually. I sit there for a bit. Then realize I should just sit outside, watch youtube, and smoke weed. An hour goes by. Then two. And three. I've watched so much youtube, I'm bored of it. I go to the HR Office and bitch at them directly, with a shout across the small office.
"Am I being fired or what? I've been waiting to be fired for three hours, lemme outta here! I want unemployment!" I yell angrily.
They just look at me, sadly annoyed.
"Jacob, do you have heat stroke?" HR Woman asks nervously.
"Supervisor said I was being fired for leaving early yesterday. So I've been waiting around for my paperwork." I say annoyedly.
They quickly explain that I had enough points to not be fired. And for some reason, they diagnosed me with heat stroke. I was told to go home and relax until Monday. I lost a week's worth of work cause of it. It was nice and annoying.
But the week of laying around was bullshit. Because the Beaters came out to play on my walks around the block. And while I was inside gaming and smoking weed.
So it starts like this. Day one of relaxing, I'm enjoying a morning walk with the vape and music blasting on my earbuds. A co-worker sneaks up beside me while I'm dancing and vibing. And cuts my earbuds cords. I throw a jab at her, then hesitate. Cause it's a woman. Ugh. A lab worker from my job.
"Why aren't you at work?" She snaps angrily.
"I had heat stroke." I say angrily. "Why'd you cut my earbuds, you're paying for those."
"Go to work or I'm getting my husband. And his friends." Lab Worker says angrily.
"Oh, let's fucking rock and roll then. Cause I'm pissed enough to make people pay through pain!" I snap angrily.