Infuriato

I was fucking furious yesterday.

Thursday night I went to bed at 11:30. Woke up at 2. Lay awake until 4. Went downstairs to the recliner. Sipped a little whiskey. Still could not fall asleep. Finally fell asleep around 5:30. Woke up at 6:38.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I was a walking corpse yesterday. And, of course, I had to go to work.

Because I am a chump. A chump who never planned ahead, a chump who earned 50% less than he was capable of in his lifetime, a chump who cannot afford to retire, a chump who works part time at a menial fucking job.

A chump who has no choice - a chump who has to go to work even on 3 hours sleep. What a fucking joke.

Worked a show last night. A show for children. These are always the worst. Fucking frantic parents, always late, always got fucking lost tickets or stupid fucking questions or irrational, selfish requests.

I was working on 3 hours sleep. I wanted to shove my fist through the glass and punch each and every one of them in the face. I know they could feel it.

There is always a mad rush at the box office at these shows. A point at which the lobby is fucking full of people, a long line leading to the box office, one person after another after another after another.

I am not built for this anymore.

Someone gave me great advice when I first started tending bar. They told me that on a crazy night, never look at the crowd waiting in line. Just look at the next person waiting for a drink. Then you won't panic.

It works. It is great advice. I have applied that advice to this fucking job. With a lobby choked with people and a line 12 miles long, just look at the person I am dealing with.

Last night I kept looking at the crowd. With contempt. Hatred. Disgust.

I fucking hate this job. I fucking hate my life.

Lately I just shut down when this happens. I get cold, I get terse - when someone asks me a question I answer them as if I am barely able to stop myself from killing them. Which is pretty much true.

I have been getting a lot of "looks" from people lately. I don't fucking care.

I dragged my ass home. The only good thing about these shows is that I get out early. I was home around 8:15.

I fucking knew I would never get to sleep last night without outside assistance. The previous night's bullshit was in my head - no matter how tired I was I would never fall asleep.

Around 10:15 I loaded up a glass with ice and filled that sucker with whiskey. And then again.

I woke up in the recliner around 1:30 am. Carol was in bed. I got up, went to the bathroom and decided Fuck it - I'll just sleep in the fucking recliner.

Woke up at 7:15. Tired. Always fucking tired.

Gotta work a show tonight. The same fucking kids show with the same fucking idiot parents and the same fucking stress and stupidity.

I am as furious today as I was yesterday.

This is the life I am supposed to be grateful for?