Thursday, May 13, 2004

Talking About Work: 1

So I work in a largish pub in the centre of Scumdee. It's old, open now for going on seven years, and is falling to bits a little. The clientele is composed of most of Scumdee's middle-rank scum: y'see, we're cheap, but not that cheap. Old men, old women, hardeneddrinkers every single one of them. That on one side of the pub anyway, the smoking side. On the non-smoking side we actually get nice people, who come in for a meal and maybe a drink or two. It's a mix, a juxtaposition of people and personalities.

On the whole it's a fun place to work. I've only been there six months, but I've made some firm friends, including my current flatmate. However, I've never worked anywhere where there has been so much back-room backstabbing and politics. Christ. It's like a fucking minefield, every time you go in for a shift. And, lucky me, I'm the only one not involved in any of it - which means that I hear everyones complaints about everyone else and have to keep them to myself. That's a bit of a bugger.

Sometimes I just wanna cry.

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