So today I went to work, like I always do, and then I go up to my co-workers and tell them they are all idiots that can't do their job right. They go, "oh David," resume their duties, and pretend that my insult didn't affect them when I know deep down they want to revenge kill me for hurting their feelings. Like I care about their feelings, shiiiiiiiiiiiiit oh it's lit dawg yeeeeeeee.

educational video that ties in very well:

Fuuuuuuuuuuck. So like, people always ask me why I complain a lot, why I'm a pessimist, "negative," sad, angry, insert-another-hipster-way-of-saying-you're-not-like-me. My answer, like today, is always the same.

Because I'm not getting what I fucking want.

Yes, I've pretended to be happy with something that I thought was good enough, like a bad relationship or a shitty video game or a movie. But then I really got to thinking… and I said, "why the hell do I have to LIE about the things I like? Why do I pretend to care about things I don't give two flying fucks about?"

So this little decision in my head made some changes in me. Little changes, big changes. One little change is that when I'm at work and people ask me the all-time mental retard-fucking-dation question…

I don't even answer them anymore. I used to, saying "yes" all the time, proving I'm as big of a fucking social idiot as the customer is, but I'm tired of pretending I don't think they're stupid. Instead, I just ask them, "what do you want?" and as rude as fuck as that sounds, and hell, as fucking offended as they get that I didn't answer their retard question, I bounce back. Why? Because I'm fucking amazing at my job and I always give them what they need. Fuck their stupid questions, I educate their asses on the shit they're going to buy. I show them that the problem I had with them wasn't them as a person, but their stupid-ass question. Hell, unless the customer is being a dumbass cunt, they're usually pretty happy by the time I finish helping them. Which is fucking great, because it comes to prove a point that I have been trying to deal into my head for years…

WHO THE FUCK CARES WHAT YOU TELL PEOPLE

I'm tired of being PC because everyone I know in this city is. PC culture is bullshit, and I'm tired of having to walk around tippie-toes just to open my mouth. It's fucking bullshit that not only is our PC culture so deeply engrained that me, a guy who actively tries to say "fuck that" to it, STILL is affected by it. I'm PC all the time. Hell, I'm so PC it hurts me. Hot girls reject me because I'm the moron "nice guy" that can't tell his asshole from his mouth. I'm the guy that defends senior citizens for being old, not realizing that any person, INCLUDING shitty people, only grow up to be OLD shitty people. I just say an elderly lady today, kinda looked like this…

STEAL SOMETHING IN FRONT OF ME. I told her, "ma'am, you have to pay for that" as she was grabbing a drink and started to walk away with it. She looked at me straight in the eyes, was quiet for like 5 seconds and said.

"I know I have to pay for it. I'm not going to."

I'm not fucking kidding. I'm 100% serious, and as a regular employee, I am not allowed to accuse a customer of stealing, EVEN IF I FUCKING SAW IT. Hell, MY SUPERVISORS are not allowed to accuse anyone either, meaning that if someone puts a product under their dress, and a MANAGER (take note, with >600 people in one building and 2 managers in the whole store, what are the fucking odds a manager will see someone stealing) DOES NOT SEE THEM, it's on. Customer gets a free iPhone case. Free new release DVD of the stupid-ass hunger games. Unless a manager saw it, no one employed in the whole store is allowed to do dick. Our only "security" measure is our AP, which is a guy that looks over the security cameras AFTER THE INCIDENT HAPPENS.

That "sweet" old lady, who looked like she was only minding her own business, STOLE SOMETHING in front of me, and knew she could get away with it.

Yes. yes. I'm not happy because I work in a fucking free store. That's right everyone, it's easy as shit to steal something from Sam's Club.

Goddamn I rambled on. Fuck it, I'll write about the girl that inspired this next time, because I need to get to bed. Let's see how long it takes me… if I take too long, I won't write about it and forget about it.