Here's a post I wrote a while ago when I was working Overnight Shifts at a local convenience store.
Suck my dirty dick and have a laugh.
On the very first day of work, they tell you not to talk about it on social media. They tell you horror stories of how people who have mentioned company names have lost their jobs or been sued for defacing company images.
I'm not a little bitch though.
I, myself, tweeted about how Tilly's was the only store 13-year old Jewish girls and Mexicans would get together to buy Neff t-shirts and skinny jeans. Somehow this was deemed 'offensive' though Mexicans DO love Neff. I'm not quite sure why, but the Latino community really seems to be into t-shirts with cartoons of emo smiley faces.
They also like speaking in Spanish. I am also unsure of this reason.
I ended up getting fired from Tilly's but fuck that shit hole.
I'm going to break this rule again for this blog post and talk to you about my job.
Now, before I begin, I will go on record here and say that I enjoy my job- about as much as anybody can enjoy a job. Would I rather not spend 8-10 hours there? Of course. Would I rather sit around and get paid to masturbate and talk shit about people I don't like? Of course. That's my dream job: a comedian.
For legal and protective purposes I will refer to my company of employment as "Blah-Blah."
Blah-Blah is a great company and has genuinely impressive benefits for its employees. Blah-Blah offers healthcare, a solid 401k plan, and even an opportunity to invest in the company's private stock.
As a matter of fact, the perks of working at Blah-Blah are so good it makes me consider dropping my dream job of becoming a professional masturbator.
The people I work with are great and are genuinely enthusiastic about going to work. I have a pretty great set of bosses and even though I think one of them has attempted murder to me, I enjoy working with them.
However, there is one aspect of this job I do not enjoy- as a matter of fact I would venture to say that I dislike this aspect. Actually, I fucking hate this horse shit.
Overnight shifts.
Between the odd hours of the night, Blah-Blah continues to operate. Here is where things get interesting.
Perhaps the most fabulous part of Blah-Blah is that it is a place that people actually enjoy going to. As opposed to my previous job, which was run by a human being with the intelligence of a ringworm, people come into Blah-Blah all the time.
All. The. Fucking. Cocksucking. Piece of shit. Whore. Asshole. Time.
People that I know come in. People that I don't know come in. People that I vaguely remember from high school come in.
I think that's the best part of overnights. Sometimes, it'll be 3 in the morning and some random person who barely graduated high school will stumble in.
Often at times I find myself asking, "how the fuck are you still alive?"
On a sidenote, it is good to see that these people are not dead.
On a sidenote-sidenote, I am genuinely surprised.
It's almost depressing to see what happens to people after high school. You know what they become? Nothing. Some of them get pregnant. Some of them die. Most of them becoming boring and watching their snapchat stories are more depressing and saddening than an Edgar Allan Poe short story.
That's right. You are all nothing. I am amazing. I am motherfuckin atheistjustin. Bitch, I am a writing, blogging, music recording, slut-slaying, shit-talking, Jew-speaking, life-living, entertaining God amongst men and even though I am making your sandwich behind the deli of Blah-Blah whilst wearing rubber gloves I am still your motherfucking Lord.
Bow down before me bitches.
Also, shouts out to the African gentleman with the sweet Afro who told me he reads my blog. You are handsome. I can't believe black people read this piece of shit website.
Moving on, overnights are a challenging shift. Mainly because you are supposed to be working at a time period where everyone you know is asleep and the sun won't rise for several hours. The only people who may come into your workplace at this hour are either going to kill you or purchase some odd items.
Working an overnight shift is like being a prostitute: you're up all night, you're working weird hours, you have to deal with weird people, and at some point in the night you're going to get fucked in the ass.
The usual customers for these shifts include: intoxicated young adults, high people, murderers, robbers, homeless people, delivery guys, truck drivers, and a Chinese tai-kwan-do master who practices Tai-Chi at 4:45am every day.
The sheer amount of tasks that are done during this time is actually baffling and the shift does go by fast. But it does get incredibly irritating when you have to stop what you're doing because some guy named "Fuckboy" came into the store high as shit and really wanted a chicken quesadilla.
Also people, stop getting your sandwiches toasted. First of all, it completely ruins the sandwich. Why the fuck do you want your turkey to be hot? What the fuck is wrong with you?
If you get mayonnaise on your sandwich and toast it, you are not someone we need on this planet.
Though, because the hours are odd, the people who come in are odd and often leave me with a nice little story.
One man came in, drunk as shit, and told me about how Obama is trying to kill off all the jews after he noticed my Hebrew tattoo on my arm.
It was truly amazing.
Another guy came in once and asked me if I knew how to get a divorce. First of all sir, I am an 19-year old working the overnight deli at blah-blah. Why the fuck would I know more about divorce than you? Also, why are you here at 4 in the morning wondering about divorces?
One of my favorite situations was when a girl came into Blah-Blah so high that I had to order her macaroni and cheese for her. She was unable to click buttons. I would like to point out that she drove a vehicle down a high way to get to my store. She later operated this piece of heavy machinery again when she left the store.
How she did not die I am unaware, but good job.
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