I've exhausted a fair amount of characters this morning (the morning Iran and Israel shoot missles at each other), so this is going to be whatever.
I've made about $17,000 in six months working at a warehouse. I operate a Taylor-Dunn; I pretty much do real life Mario Kart:
as in, I drive around in laps, at high speeds, collecting items, while aiming to finish as fast as possible. I'm able to fit 75 items (various auto parts such as: plate discs, fenders, bumpers, rims, arm assemblies, springs, coils, rods, columns, lamp combs, clusters, etc,--a bunch of heavy shit basically) on my rig--and I do it fast. I work harder than three people and more accurately, as well. When they pick up two disc plates, I pick up fifteen; I work hard.
I also operate a Crown and Raymond Order Picker
&
picking doors, hoods, crossbars, mounts, trunk lids, bonnets, windshields, bigger plate discs, bigger rims, etc,--thirty feet or more.
I even do reach truck
for when fuckers order a 485 Kg pallet of disc plates (you fuckers), pallets of arm assemblies, transmissions--shit Hulk could actually use as a weapon.
I do my job well; my productivity is at 107%. I work 10 hour days, Monday through Friday.
I even assist new employees, old employees, the cleaning ladies, the top brass, the middle brass, security guards, the dudes who actually load the truck after I stock the cages--I help everyone do everything to get shit out the door on time.
I've gone from a 34'' waist to 29'' and built muscle like a motherfucker (and I fuck mothers, if you can read that back to yourself, because you know what I mean)
Recently (Monday), I got sick, but had to keep working. I'm a man and can't bitch out because I don't feel well and that led to me crushing my thumb under a bumper from about five feet on a concrete floor--I can't feel 20% of my thumb.
I don't have time to fill a workmans comp out and wait for benefits--I only have time to work and keep things afloat, so I'm starting another job (another warehouse) in-between me starting an apprenticeship for an iron worker. After I become skilled (above journeyman, I guess) I can make about $23.00 an hour.
Now for the ice cream and cake:
I bought a lot of shit, did a lot of shit, made a lot of bets, lost a lot of things, ordered a bunch of stuff, paid for numerous services, took care of business, lived good, suffered, had animals die (old age and maybe heartbroken that I wasn't around) got into a lot of fights, got a couple scars, paid bills, made nightmares and dreams come true.
I almost had a kid, turned down a marriage proposal, started writing a script, got a part in a play, had fuckers squelch on debts, and during that time, I tried to stay "active" on the temp, to keep my sanity from stress at every turn--what the fuck was I thinking to call the temp "an attempt to keep my sanity"?
I swear, I thought some terrible thoughts, but I'm taking it in stride.
This is why I'm following a lot of you--those I follow, I respect: for what you say, for what you do, things you've done, work you've put in, and just generally being you. For years, I was like, "follow me and I'll follow you", but that's a bitch mentality. Straight-up, some of you don't get credit for the things you do--you get whiny asslicks complaining about bullshit. So for now, following you is the bet I can do. Some of you (who I don't follow, with the exception of one) are just kind of oblivious......while others, better hope I don't setup a blood cult. Kidding!
So pretty much, yeah, I am all fucked up on level three adulting. I'm probably going to die an early death from overworking, but I just wanted you to know: I fuckin' cared.
P.S. some bitches are going to be bitches and I'm going to haunt the fuck out of you.
I've made about $17,000 in six months working at a warehouse. I operate a Taylor-Dunn; I pretty much do real life Mario Kart:
as in, I drive around in laps, at high speeds, collecting items, while aiming to finish as fast as possible. I'm able to fit 75 items (various auto parts such as: plate discs, fenders, bumpers, rims, arm assemblies, springs, coils, rods, columns, lamp combs, clusters, etc,--a bunch of heavy shit basically) on my rig--and I do it fast. I work harder than three people and more accurately, as well. When they pick up two disc plates, I pick up fifteen; I work hard.
I also operate a Crown and Raymond Order Picker
picking doors, hoods, crossbars, mounts, trunk lids, bonnets, windshields, bigger plate discs, bigger rims, etc,--thirty feet or more.
I even do reach truck
for when fuckers order a 485 Kg pallet of disc plates (you fuckers), pallets of arm assemblies, transmissions--shit Hulk could actually use as a weapon.
I do my job well; my productivity is at 107%. I work 10 hour days, Monday through Friday.
I even assist new employees, old employees, the cleaning ladies, the top brass, the middle brass, security guards, the dudes who actually load the truck after I stock the cages--I help everyone do everything to get shit out the door on time.
I've gone from a 34'' waist to 29'' and built muscle like a motherfucker (and I fuck mothers, if you can read that back to yourself, because you know what I mean)
Recently (Monday), I got sick, but had to keep working. I'm a man and can't bitch out because I don't feel well and that led to me crushing my thumb under a bumper from about five feet on a concrete floor--I can't feel 20% of my thumb.
I don't have time to fill a workmans comp out and wait for benefits--I only have time to work and keep things afloat, so I'm starting another job (another warehouse) in-between me starting an apprenticeship for an iron worker. After I become skilled (above journeyman, I guess) I can make about $23.00 an hour.
Now for the ice cream and cake:
I bought a lot of shit, did a lot of shit, made a lot of bets, lost a lot of things, ordered a bunch of stuff, paid for numerous services, took care of business, lived good, suffered, had animals die (old age and maybe heartbroken that I wasn't around) got into a lot of fights, got a couple scars, paid bills, made nightmares and dreams come true.
I almost had a kid, turned down a marriage proposal, started writing a script, got a part in a play, had fuckers squelch on debts, and during that time, I tried to stay "active" on the temp, to keep my sanity from stress at every turn--what the fuck was I thinking to call the temp "an attempt to keep my sanity"?
I swear, I thought some terrible thoughts, but I'm taking it in stride.
This is why I'm following a lot of you--those I follow, I respect: for what you say, for what you do, things you've done, work you've put in, and just generally being you. For years, I was like, "follow me and I'll follow you", but that's a bitch mentality. Straight-up, some of you don't get credit for the things you do--you get whiny asslicks complaining about bullshit. So for now, following you is the bet I can do. Some of you (who I don't follow, with the exception of one) are just kind of oblivious......while others, better hope I don't setup a blood cult. Kidding!
So pretty much, yeah, I am all fucked up on level three adulting. I'm probably going to die an early death from overworking, but I just wanted you to know: I fuckin' cared.
P.S. some bitches are going to be bitches and I'm going to haunt the fuck out of you.
