They Said to Just Pedal

Just Pedal

That’s a whole lot fucking easier said than done. Part of the Bike Ride Poem, the gist is, when life gives you shit, just pedal, you’ll eventually get through it. 

I can think of a very few times in my life when I’ve been so angry, that every single time I think about the situation, I cannot speak, all I can do is cry. 

When I get to that point… 

Have you seen the movie or read the book titled, Carrie?

Okay. So now you know. There ain’t no apologizing. No reasoning. No nothing. Get the fuck out of my way. 

Do you even understand that when you sit around talking about people, the people who you’re talking to are talking about you too? Do you even understand that talking about people says more about your boring no-life self than it ever will about the person you’re talking about? I don’t care if you talk about me, I am nothing to talk about and there are precious few people who know a lot about me. My personal journals don’t even know all there is to know about me because mother fuckers can read. Okay? So for anybody to  be able to say anything about me, it would almost have to be totally contrived bullshit. If I need you to know something, I will tell you but due to the nature of a Pongid Hominidae, even if I profess my undying devotion to you, you still won’t have the glory of knowing too much about me. That whole notion of can and will be used against you is utter bullshit. It WILL be used against you. YOU. Not me. It isn’t keeping secrets. It’s called “none of your fucking business”.

So then. I don’t really want to get into it because I will cry again and tears on my keyboard is a no-no. Last Sunday was the Superbowl so my boss closed his shop for the day. The last time I worked was that Saturday prior. I talked to him that Sunday, had a grand old conversation, and then I went  home. So then this Saturday, the first thing out of his mouth was, “I heard complaints about your cleaning…”. 

So just so you know. That’s one of the worst lies anyone can tell on me. I clean that place like I clean my house and I’ve been known to scrub my baseboards at 3am. You can ask anyone who knows me or has ever known me. I didn’t just wake up one day with OCD- literally been this way for as long as I can possibly remember and there again, anyone who knows me can also tell you, “as long as I can possibly remember” is painfully long. That’s not what pissed me off- it was a bad lie. I told him so- “That’s bullshit, Chef. Pure bullshit and whomever told you that story, lied to you.” That was the end of it.

What truly pissed me off was at the end of the night, he said to me that “he heard…” people telling him that I tell the girls they can leave without cleaning. “You can go. You don’t have to clean.” I lit right into him. Something changed. He isn’t open on Mondays; he wasn’t open on Sunday. The last time I worked was Saturday one week ago, I talked to him on Sunday so if it was something that happened the day before, I am sure he would’ve said something then. Something changed between Tuesday and Friday. A former waitress, Queen Fat Ass Two Face Back Stabbing Bully Cunt-bag Bitch came back. That’s what changed.  

The thing of it is, Chef won’t fire anybody. He has a big heart, can’t say no to people, and will give you every chance in the world to improve yourself before he will just stop calling you to come in. Oh but he will make your life a living Hell to make you quit. I have seen him do it more times than I care to remember. Enter the bully. If you are any good at your job, that means you are 100% better than her and she will do whatever she can to make your life a living Hell so the Chef will have reasons to go after you. But if you suck, she will love you forever because you are no threat to her. I don’t know what kind of deranged relationship they have but he knows she steals from him; steals from us, lies to him, stabs him in the back- stabs us and lies to us, yet he continues to put up with it. And believes every fucking word she says even when he knows it couldn’t possibly be true. 

Aside: a few weeks back, there were three of us working, one of which was having personal issues and wanted to leave early. Pongid #2 asked me if it would be okay if Pongid #1 left- which I didn’t care. I just wanted to know what had or had not been done so that if it needed to be done, the remaining two Pongids could do it. I wonder if that’s where that story came from? For that to be true, it would literally have to mean that Pongid #2 mentioned it to the Bully, completely leaving out the part that the whole thing was her idea, and then the bully subsequently relayed that information to the Chef. OR Pongid #2 went and told the Chef herself without ever mentioning it was HER idea. When I spoke with #2 Pongid, she kept telling me that #1 Pongid had to be the one because the bully wasn’t even there. So let me get this straight- #1 Pongid goes to Chef and states, “Jeri lets people leave early without cleaning and I know that because she said I could leave”. I’m that stupid, right? 

Aside #2: The skinny on #1 Pongid is this. She’s a bitch and I didn’t like her but she was a good waitress- acted like the world wasn’t run properly until she made her debut and carried that attitude right into that restaurant. So New Year’s Day with the seating chart and wine list- she was standing there when the Chef told me to get that stuff done because I “knew what was going on”. She bee lined it up to the book to make the chart and had that wine list. There are three pages to that list, I noticed she had two pages but kept it to myself. We ran out of wine- well who ordered the wine? That seating chart was fucked nine ways to Sunday, nobody could read it, shit was fucked up, and she got frustrated with us because we made her stand up there and deal with it. You were determined to be the boss, you got it, enjoy the headache. But, hey, how bout that wine? Go on and fuck with me. That’s the kind of bitch I am- I will step out of the way to let you fall into the depths of Hell and I will not help you out once you hit the bottom. Ibid: fuck with me. 

Anyway. So Pongid #2 kept defending the bully by stating it just had to be #1 Pongid with that story because she didn’t like me almost as much as I didn’t like her. Pongid #2 also purportedly hates working with the bully, but is a pretty good friend to her outside the workplace. What are the odds… just what are the odds that since she and the bully both know that I don’t need that job and will quit to keep from dealing with shit like that, that they decided that would be a cute story to tell the Chef so that he would bring the heat on me? These mother fuckers are trying way too hard because this is the Commonwealth of Virginia- an at-will state. That fucker doesn’t need a reason to fire me. I don’t need a reason to quit. So tonight when he asked me to put myself into his shoes, I told him I do every single day. And then I burst into tears and he kept telling me to stop crying. I looked up and noticed that he was saying that because my crying was causing him to cry. goddam wimp. But I did tell him that if the end result was being fired, he could fucking save it and in terms of that Valentine’s Day book, fuck it. Let one of those back stabbers work it out. Fuck that wine list too. 

I am, however, going to make up the most fucked up story of all time and tell them. Each person will have their own personal version of the story and when it comes out of somebody else’s mouth, BOOM. That’s how I differentiate two face mother fuckers. Works every time. Carrie? Did I mention I am a bitch? Fuck with me. 

Yeah, I’ll pedal. Pedal my ass right to my witch closet. I used to have a boss who previously owned a Voodoo store in Richmond. Talk about a mad discount- you know those plastic rolly bin thingies with three deep drawers? I have one of those filled to the rim with witchy shit that I’ve never used. Until now…

http://www.cs.cmu.edu/~bsinger/roadlife.html

I’m pedaling.

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