Can I complain about my job some more?

In my nightmares, I hear them. The customers. I hear their children knocking over DVD displays. I hear them complaining about their late fees. I wake in a cold sweat, scrambling to check in returns, panic seizing me.

Work at Hollywood Video is ruining me. Slowly but surely, it's draining me of my will to live. I'm not sure how much longer I can take it.

Sorry for the lame post.


  1. A giant, sweaty man shoves a handful of buttery popcorn in his mouth - despite the fact that he's about to talk to you, and he hands you ticket practically dripping with butter.

    "Hello! How are you today?"
    he attempts to answer (if you're lucky) only to have half of the popcorn fall out of his mouth onto the floor.

    Minimum wage jobs = hell.

  2. Customer service = Hell.

    I'll work for minimum wage if it means I don't have to deal with people.


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