So, am currently working at the bookshop... volunteering
at the bookshop... which doesn't pay anyone except the managers, because no one ever buys stuff, and it's also run by anarchists... and communists... both of which, I think, don't believe in paying people with the money produced by our current capitalist hegemony. They must be very pleased that we mostly don't make a profit.
Speaking of, when I was doing the register tally, we had a one-dollar bill with what looked like a big drop of dry blood on it. Ew ew ew.
Obviously, if the capitalist system worked, I should at least be washing dishes FOR MONEY at this point. I can do a job! And I'm fairly fluent in Spanish! And...
Fickle finger of invisible hand of market fucking with me; does not care about the working man, never mind the nonworking woman.( Collapse )
And on our other side, we have... TOMCATS II. Guess what that is? It's a Legitimate Businessmen's Massage Parlor. A mob front disguised as... something sexy for sale. WTF. I think our hours and theirs don't overlap, though, since... they're never open! Or, at least, they don't seem open even at midnight.
A very quiet, skinny, middle-aged guy just bought an eleven-dollar magazine on nudism. Bless. First sale of the day! We've been open for an hour and twenty minutes! People just come in here to look at our books and erode our linoleum!...
And a guy just came in and chuckled at all our bumper stickers, said, "Great store," and left. The comedy club is that way! But they do charge admission.
Also, a few weeks back, we had an obvious break-in but nothing got stolen. The alarm was blaring and the door was unlocked. We've got a security service but the security company doesn't care about trustafarian people, I guess. Natch, they called and sent the police purely to embarrass me when I set the alarm off by mistake, and sounded really concerned over the phone. They are fucking with us.
It's nice to have good material to kvetch about, though...