The Ultimate Parent

Work was a bear today. My boss won’t be there tomorrow so I’m forecasting chaos for the next two days. We finally get to fire Silly Goose #4. Him not showing up yesterday was the nail in the coffin. We got approval from the higher-ups right away because now they’re finally sick of dealing with it, just like we are. I have to fire him but I’ll have my sheath, the Director of Operations. My boss and the head of HR will be out tomorrow, how convenient. So that’s first thing to happen. Then I have two different To-Do lists to contend with and the possibility that someone might call-out for Saturday, my busiest day of the friggin’ week. Someone meaning Silly Goose #2. Today, Ms. Clancy and I had to sit down with Silly Goose #3 after we watched last night’s closing shift on the cameras. He left the café unattended and we lost sales. He’s been told so many times not to do that and here we are, saying the same fucking thing. If he gets one more write-up he’s terminated as well. That’s how bad it is on my team. Also today, I heard that the background check for the girl we offered a job to might come back flagged, but my boss has decided to push it forward anyway. If it weren’t for Silly Goose #4 being fired, Silly Goose #3 would have been terminated to-day. He doesn’t even know how lucky he is. For real. My boss even asked him, “Do you want to work here?” The correct answer even if you don’t feel that way is “yes”, not “Well, yes and no. I’m looking for another job because I can’t afford to work here anymore…” His response didn’t even make sense but I understood what he meant; still, it was infuriating. HE is infuriating. What he meant to say was that he needs a second job. Regardless, care about the job you have now, dickface. I have so much work to get done in the next two days, I really don’t have time for people to be skiving off. So I’m nervous but I’ll drink my mushroom/power drink and get through the day, one minute at a time.

I think I’m getting a cat on Sunday. Although after I told Mum about it, she spent the following two hours trying to find a different cat for me… I don’t understand. I’m not sure what she was looking for… Then she calls and I can hear it in her voice. She’s been drinking. Sure, it’s her day-off, but dammit. Now I have to deal with a drunken Mother when I get off of work. I’m not allowed to talk about her drinking when she’s been drinking, isn’t that sad? I can’t voice how uncomfortable it makes me and how I wish she would just fucking stop doing it every-fucking-night. Take a fucking break. And I can tell every-fucking-time too. Her behavior gives it away. If not that, then her breath. If she doesn’t have to work, there’s a 70% chance that she’s been drinking, even when she’s just going shopping with her daughter and granddaughter. I know that I used to be like that and it’s really, really frustrating to deal with but at least she didn’t have to monitor me like I was a fucking child. When she drinks before we leave, it’s like I have to take care of “two” children while we’re out instead of just the one. Then I look like an asshole for being so tightly-wound and stressed because I have to stop a child and a sixty year-old woman from playfully yelling at each other in the store… I know that’s insulting but it’s true. I fucking hate it and wish that she would respect me enough to fucking quit or at least cut back. I’m not asking for Saint-like behavior, but fucking hell. I’m trying to stay sober woman, stop rubbing it in my face by being drunk every fucking night.

ANYWAY!

I’ve been filling out questionnaires for the county’s humane society to adopt a cat for weeks now and finally received a call back today. He’s a six month old tabby, fixed and in foster care, I was told that he’s sort of a bully. I think I’m just gonna go for it, but I really hope that I don’t end up with an asshole cat like Mum has. She has two: the best cat in the whole wide world and the biggest douchebag in the universe. I’m not allowed to touch her, she hisses and freaks and runs from me. She must have been abused as a kitten which was made worse being spayed by the cheapest Vet in town who has had online articles written about how different animals behave once they’ve been under their care. It’s sad. I just want some excitement in my life and at this point, that means another cat in my life for the next 10+ years instead of having another baby with an unknown person I met on a dating app. Hopefully my next cat makes it past ten years. Poor Ramsay didn’t even get to celebrate a decade. The asthma got him. So I have a Meet ‘n Greet appointment on Sunday in the morning. I’m really excited for him. It should be awesome.

I think I’ll call him Henry. Or Charlie. I don’t know.