Posted on January 18, 2018
*Fresh Meat: the Sequel
Only the strong survive, I sing loudly, happily, closing the windows of Big Man’s bedroom. Good fucking riddance.
Let’s say we start this count at Thursday, which is when Big Man first arrived. It took me about five minutes to start disliking him, and a few hours later, another two minutes for him to confirm I was absolutely right. Friday was strange and uncomfortable, but passed by without major incidents – apart from the staring, obviously. Saturday was the day he threatened to quit for the first time. Sunday, he complained all through my zen moment of feeding the pigs; he technically had to do it but I had to go along and make sure he did it right – can you fucking believe, though, it takes an absolute idiot not to know how to put corn in a bucket and water in a trough, but I had to go along, just in case. It was agony watching him climb the (world’s shortest) fence, and when we left, he casually pointed out I was leaving the empty buckets behind. I literally had to tell him he could carry the fucking empty buckets back, especially since I had carried the full ones there. While we were walking back at a pace of about 500m/h, he told me a little fact about pigs, followed by a condescending “you learn something new every day, hey.” I almost punched him. Ruin every other moment for me, mate, but leave me in peace when it comes to feeding my animals. I love them because they don’t talk, maybe take a fucking hint sometime. On Monday, he quit.
It was about midday when he stormed into the kitchen, picked up the phone, started telling blatant lies to his mother, all the while cursing and sobbing hysterically. I’m not even going to pretend I felt sorry for him, it was honestly all a big joke to me, and I couldn’t wait for him to pack his shit and go. It took a while for Boss Man to give up on this kid – which is noble, but also incredibly frustrating – but in the end, even he had to come to terms with the fact he wouldn’t be able to change Big Man’s shitty attitude. He gave him a million second chances, and the idiot boy threw them all away. He had another job lined up, he said, no problem. It took him another day to organise his pick-up, and on Wednesday he left. Four working days, six days in total, and he was already gone – don’t take ‘working’ literally here by the way, he did absolute fuck all. His mother came, yelled, loaded him up, and drove off. Too bad there wasn’t a door involved in this dramatic exit, because I really wished it would have hit him in the ass on the way out.
Before he left, he came up to me and apologised for swearing in front of me. Yeah, mate, that’s what I want to hear, sorry you said fuck, but no sorry for me having to do your jobs, or thank you for me cleaning up your shit. Yeah, nah, the fuck was the one to apologise for. He said sorry to the kids, sorry to Boss Man and Boss Lady, and then said he had a great time while he was here. In less than an hour, he went from crying to his mother, telling her he didn’t want to be here, that he didn’t feel safe, to telling everyone how much he had enjoyed being here. I honestly, seriously, think he might have a mental illness, and hope to god his mother has him checked out. I sincerely hope he gets the help he need – but if it turns out he’s literally just a spoilt little brat, I hope he gets shipped off to military school, and I hope every single one of his instructors is a woman.
I bet he doesn’t think I’m that fun anymore – but hey, can you blame him, sucks to find out that all the girls you work with/for have bigger balls than you.