Cut me some fresh!
My first job was at a deli counter, in a newly opened super market.

Downside, weak weak pay, upside, taking prime cuts of food. My boss was an extremely subintelligent worm, with thick bright blue framed glasses, (a man!) how I wanted to kill him. He used to say things to me like "Are you fick or sumfing?" why did he risk his life like this? All around were a huge variety of big cleavers, prongs, and the meat slicer. I dreamed of clamping his fucking face down and gently rocking him back and forth, slicing his head thinly while his muffled screams slowly faded.

And then the blue hairs, the biddies who would insist on fresh slices of corned beef, get the fuck out biddy, fresh corned beef. Still they were not to be of this earth for long being blue hairs. And to prove to them that the lights were tinted at the counter, and really all the produce was a shitty grey colour. Their cataract riddled eyes would light up like stinking gas lights in amazement of the trickery.
I worked there for about a month so I would get my pay and then told them to fuck off which was cool.

I'm a loving and kindhearted person, let me cuddle you, but my time there started to awaken a dark side, best thing I quit before Mr. Gunton, (name easily changed) ended up next to the Honey Roast.

I love you all.
(booionic, Tue 21 Feb 2006, 7:56, Reply)