At work I was no more than a puppet dangling on rubber strings. I was a parrot child, and it was embarrassing; when asked how long it would be, my boss would whisper behind my back "ten, fifteen minutes" and I had to answer "ten, fifteen minutes." even though I knew it would be thirty five at the least. If I said anything different the miniature Iranian would holler "I didn't hire you for thinking." And when I was right, after he had left, leaving me with angry an hungry customers how could I explain it was really me who lied to them, mislead them, made them late for their movie, but my boss? I was a tiny little number in a long line of numbers in a building that served dinner food and restaurant quality price, and thought they were four star. Kelly Corporate would come in and change the radio station back to Bluegrass and yell at someone for wearing white socks, as if these things would really positively effect the turn over in a restaurant where sales of $800 are deemed impressive.

So I quit. I'd rather be unemployed then feel ashamed to tell someone where I work.

I bought a red Volvo. You can expect pictures very soon, of her and her brother the Honda Salamander. It runs like a dream and I can almost ignore the ungodly amount of gass it burns. I feel safe in that car. I feel like myself. I only wish it had an air conditioner.

Inspite of all my rage, I'm still like a rat in a cage.
-A.H.