Speaking of which, I haven't done mine. Shit. No time, no time, I'm tellin' ya. I clocked in over 39 hours last week, and 38 the week before that. I haven't had time for anything, I swear. And then to top shit off, I sprained my right wrist last Wednesday. It's alright now, but last week, it was hurting like a mother, and I had to have it wrapped tightly in gauze to keep it from moving too much. It still bothers me whenever I have to move something extremely heavy, but no more bandages for me, thanks. It made my wrist feel all stiff and useless. And it would hurt when I typed. But I digress, I digress...

I was really pissed off on Friday, too. Zamira and Aaron took off early, the fuckers, and left me everything to finish up, and a mess to boot. And me with a sprained wrist. I didn't clock out until after two in the morning. I was the last fuckin' worker to leave, I shit you not. Even the damn security guard had left. The only two people there with me were Art and Frank, two of the supervisors, and they can't leave until everyone's out. Art was kinda bitchy with me until he found out the reason why I was staying so late. There's only so much I can do with one good hand (heh-heh-heh), and since my wonderful coworkers left me with everything (Zamira to gamble, Aaron to get drunk at a club)... So he bitched them out on Monday for leaving me the whole load. They've been a whole lot more subdued around me since then, and now Aaron's trying to make up the OT he missed, since he's not coming in to work on Friday. I seriously think he's getting fed up with UPS, but he doesn't got the balls to quit. I mean, that would be like looking a gift horse in the mouth, wouldn't it? We get all these benefits that we'd never find anywhere else, especially for being part-timers. He knows he's got a good job here and he'd hate to lose it, but in the end, he's just a drunk kid who wants to go out and party a bit more. Especially now that he's got himself a girl. Y'know, the hormones call. He can't stay cooped up in a warehouse and slave away, now can he? He's gotta go out. And everyone accepts that as a natural occurance. Boys will be boys, right? Well, fuckin' think again, I say. I don't give a shit if he wants to go out and get tanked every fuckin' night of his life, but I hate it when he lets this shit affect his work. There's times that, despite of how fond I am of the kid, I really wish he'd quit; do us all that favor. But nooooo.... He's just gotta have his cake and eat it, too. He wants job security, he wants the benefits, the perks, the excellent pay (some beg to differ on that)... all for free?! He wants to work on his terms. He wants to set the rules, and fuck the rest of the team over while he's at it. I know he hates it that I get better paychecks every week, and he tries and tries in vain to find of sneaky ways to increase his pay, like working on the Load or Unload with the scanners for an hour, so he'll get paid that extra dollar an hour the whole shift. It just pisses me off that he gets away with so much shit at work, because the supervisors can "understand where he's coming from" because he's "young and we all went through that." Bullshit, dawg. I'm young, I'm his same fuckin' age, you don't see me clocking in twenty minutes late, arriving at the belt after half the Sort's done. I always have to cover for his ass, and I'm sick of it! But when I refuse to, they give me shit. I'd quit, but I love my job, and I'll be damned if I let some stupid little kid last longer at UPS than I can.