So
this is the reason why almost every, if not every, badfic author flounces and lands a shitstorm every time their work is criticized. Figures.
In other news, I appear to have only four-five days off work a month. Five days. At most. No wonder I hate that place so much. I'm pretty damn surprised I didn't notice how my free part of the month got significantly shorter and shorter. I remember how in the beginning Helena asked me if 20 days of work a month are okay or do I need more and I graceously answered that if needed, I could work a few extra days, so she slapped another day on my monthly schedule. Now nobody brings up the question. I'm just told when I need to show up for work and it ends with that. (It's not Helen's fault, either. We used to be five people working, now it's only four of us and our bosses don't feel like offering us a fifth spot again.)
Also, sometimes I'm ashamed to be Latvian. Our government sucks balls, but since it's the people who elected those fucktards, we're all to blame. Which means that our entire nation consists of fucktards and selfish bastards who only care for their personal gain. (Looking at myself from the side I can say this includes me as well, as I don't give a crap about what happens to others. Except in the end, when it really boils down to it, turns out I do and that I couldn't purposely harm an other person in any way. So I'm kind of a faily example there.)
Somehow all the bastards of our nation have ended up getting rich and powerful, enough so to be splitting the land in their property and soon-to-be their property (at least that's the impression I'm getting, but I might be well exaggerating). And most of the nice people have remained at the very bottom - poor, barely making it through from one salary to another, or living normally. And by normally I mean having enough money to lead a decent life without any extras. A visit to a restaurant maybe once a year, if ever, furthest trips within the reaches of our own country and not much money to put aside for emergency cases.
But of course, half of these made-up statistics are exaggerations on my part since I work daily with 5-minutes-to-being-poor shitheads who think they're the greatest thing ever, that salespeople are just decorations with no emotions and that their sole purpose is to cater to their every wish, that buying a 10-cent hairtie or a 1-euro earrings makes them our regular and most valued customer, deserving only the best, and who can push complaints when we politely inform them that entering the shop while eating icecream is a no-no.
So. Have I mentioned that I hate working in the central train station? It sucks. I don't know about other stations in other countries since I'm too poor to go abroad, but ours is chock-full of idiots.
And god, I could rant about it forever and ever, but it's just not worth the effort. It's quite clear that the crisis our economy faces (which has hit us harder than any other country - or so my coworker claims and there's little reason to not believe her) is just there to teach this fucked-up nation a valuable lesson of life. If (skipping the grown-ups and heading straight over to their goddamn offsprings) the spoiled, bratty ten-year-olds who can bitch out and curse at grown-ups and not get any punishment, insult teachers and in the end have parents claim that it's the teacher's fault, who can smoke, drink and - most likely - do drugs, who can beat their classmates half to death are any indication, it's just on time, too. And even then for some part of this nation it's already too late.
...I should just go write a book or something. Or, y'know,
go to work since it's not my day off today. And won't be until Sunday.
Hope you guys are doing well. To those of you who are sick - get well soon. And though I don't comment on your entries, I still read them. Spending a day in the company of well over 100
idiots 25-75-year-old babies who keep having tantrums left, right and front and who flounce at the stupidest of things, I have no strength left in me to converse with normal people.
Being a salesperson in a jewelry shop demands so much energy that I'm surprised I'm still alive. Also, I'm of the opinion that from all the energy I've wasted since August last year, a small village could have survived arctic freezing.
And now I'm off again to slave the day away. (Or, actually, since we have the crisis now, sit the day away in a lethargic boredom, tossing around off-tangent comments about the stupidity of the Latvian nation.) I would much rather go work on a field. Pick some berries or vegetables. Or do some weeding. At least I'd be in an open space with relatively little company and lots of fresh air.
Heavy physical work suddenly seems very appealing.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
