Between the middle-aged probable molesters, and the crotchety old jackoffs wearing hats with green bows expecting me to remove the GST/PST for them because they want to buy ‘confectionaries’, I need a new job. Love my coworkers, hate the type of people I’m dealing with. The quality is just not there. Who’d have thought. I have a few applications out. Something must come through.
Feeling sick to my stomach. Hopefully it’s just dehydration, but it’s probably nerves. Gross people make me anxious. Must. Escape. Gross people.