The Curse of Store 072

Dangerous place, Store 072. At least for the employees.
A toe has been amputated, a pacemaker has been replaced and a stent inserted, prostate cancer has been diagnosed, veins have been ripped out of a leg and replaced.
There are five major players in Store 072. The Fabulous Five. Admittedly I am the newest addition, the lowest on the totem pole, lagging far behind in knowledge and experience.
I am also the only one who has not been touched by serious medical concerns.
In an expression of solidarity, I have done everything I possible can over the last two months to destroy my health. Consuming whiskey like water, stopped exercising completely, eating a lot of junk, gaining weight, getting only half a night's sleep, and dealing with a stress level that is through the roof.
No results. No consequences.
My strategy has recently changed. I am now trying to escape from the karma of Store 072 into the warm, welcoming, mother-like arms of anybody who will have me within the wild and wacky world of the New Hampshire State Liquor Commission.
No results there either.
The commission is toying with me, dangling the prospect of hope one minute, cutting it of at the knees the next.
The Sword of Damocles is hanging over my head and I am boxed in, baby.
What a predicament.

(Editor's Note: I am not trying to escape the karma of Store 072, I wanted only to sound dramatic. The karma remains surprisingly positive and is a tribute to those warriors who have had to deal with these health issues. The Fab Four. My sole goal is to make more money. I will miss the laughter of my compadres. I hope no one was harmed, hurt or insulted by the thoughts expressed in this blog entry).