I lost my savings, job, wife and family a few years ago. Last year took a side job as a grunt laborer in a warehouse to keep the lights on. It has been a good diversion, good exercise, and basic source of income, and I’ve kept it even after my “day job” has returned.
Last Tuesday was busier than usual. Inventory piled high and half our labor force was called off due to local storms. As a result, our duties and the warehouse layout were slightly different than normal. The variety of pace was fun, even though you could tell that some of the supervisors were stressed. In fact our gay shift manager disappeared into the bathroom to cry. So the station manager put me in charge for the time being. I sat at the manager’s desk and dealt with process interruptions, and basic traffic of people and paperwork. I am familiar with the processes since the manager has often pulled me aside and shown me the ropes. Not sure why he chose me, except that I strive to be a great assistant.
There wasn’t a lot to do, as the workers in their assigned roles were getting things done. So there I sat, taking in the calmness of the moment. Notably absent was the overweight latina girl whose highest goal at work was tricking guys into doing her job for her—it is hard to imagine a person that large swelling even further, but I’ve seen it happen with a successful strike, her ego on full display and her golden s~~~-eating smile emerging radiantly. I can still recall her attempt at an aggressive lashing just a couple weeks back, when she stared me in the eyes, furrowed her brow, and commanded that I WILL be her assistant. I had to laugh, and reminded her that I was training her, and she was assisting me, now can she just do her job? Silly bitch, those jedi mind tricks don’t work on me. I also remember the moment she walked away from the same desk I now sat behind, filing an HR complaint against myself and the handful of others she was unable to manipulate—her eyebrow raised and nose in the air, elevated by her fat, round body. She seemed to feel that if she couldn’t put us under her thumb then she’d go to big daddy government and punish us. HR told us to limit contact with her, and after she was caught sitting around a few days later, has not been seen since.
So it was peaceful. Looking down at myself, I had worn the same clothes for days. A marked contrast to just a couple years ago, when I wore pressed collared shirts almost daily and would show up to parties wearing a sport jacket and shined shoes. Now I was gradually taking on the appearance of a homeless person. God, I haven’t shaved or showered in days… had it been a week? Also been staying the night at a couple different places. Yet at the same time, I realize that I am farther along and more developed as a person; I’m more mature, stronger, more lethal and sustainable. But What’s happened to me? It’s partly a drive to minimalism, my single survival outfit can be lived in at all times and cost me nearly nothing. Partly actual surviving—working all the time now at three jobs, two of which are manual labor. Rebuilding one’s life is serious business, and every minute counts. Minimizing my social contacts, there are fewer others to filter my appearance for. Maybe I’ve been hanging out on the MGTOW.com forum too much, becoming a hermit. But whatever, at least I don’t smell bad and am probably just making the AWALTs wet the longer I go on like this.
A cute blonde girl who radiates innocence checks in, and gives me the biggest smile. If you’ll pardon an outmoded metaphor, she is like honey to look at: golden and super nice. If I believed in unicorns, she would be one. I had locked eyes with her once, and ever since she makes sure to linger a while in conversation with me, or wave to me from across the warehouse, which is about the size of a football field. Not that I haven’t thought about it. I looked her up on facebook once. Her profile is mostly invisible to the public, except for the large banner image of herself with her boyfriend or husband, both grinning from ear to ear, and her profile picture looking far more mischevious and seductive than she does in real life. I have learned to expect such behavior from women, and really don’t care. Could she be a fwb? Yes. Could/will she be another “could have” in my future past? Yes. And this irks me not in the least.
As I check people in and out and assist my co-workers with directions, I notice that the female workers who work outside the warehouse go out in pairs, while the men go by themselves, and wonder how this affects productivity and the bottom line. And I recall a lesson I’ve learned working here: that by and large, most people will work if you give them a job. This surprised me at first, but it’s true. In fact, I hear more complaints from people when work is slow than when it is too busy. Benjamin Franklin wrote that when in the military he would assign men menial tasks during periods of low work demand, and this kept the men in good spirits. Of course there is the other camp—people who refuse to work—and those people are usually blatently obvious, at least to their peers who are actually working.
My gay shift manager returns, eyes puffy but dry, and things continue. They keep me up front for support (productivity and possibly emotional?) and the day runs like the clockwork it is. A few big manual jobs later, and I still need to take that shower.
"Once you’ve taken care of the basics, there’s very little in this world for which your life is worth deferring." -David Hansson. "It’s not when women are mean or nasty that anything is out of the ordinary. It’s when they are NICE to you that you have to be on high alert..." -Jackinov.
Awakened 11 months, 2 weeks ago.
