15 mins

Series: Personal series. Personal are short one off stories done by events inspired first by my own life, and then slightly taking a different turn that I WANT to happen. Obviously names and locations have been changed. 

 Socials/Tip Jar: linktr.ee/TheCelticFire 

Sora AI Video: 1 

 

 

 

The phone slammed into its cradle harder than I meant, but at this point I didn’t care. Honestly at this point, I didn't give a crap about anything. If management wanted to scold me about things like tone, manners and being approachable they could shove it. Shove it hard with sandpaper. You see, I just spent ten minutes explaining to a woman why an expired coupon from 2017 was not valid anymore, and you fu- freaking think I just told her I keyed her car in the parking lot. Worse part was, this was the easiest thing of the day. 

Customer service. Retail. What a Gods damn joke. I swear every person who comes through this line thinks I’m the king of the universe with powers to bend reality. What am I Thanos? 

• Can I honor their expired coupons?

• Can I adjust prices to whatever fantasy number they dreamed up last night?

• Can I be personally responsible for shipping delays caused by a blizzard in another state?

Sure. Let me just wave my magic wand.

The worst part? Well one of the worst parts (yes with a s), it's the attitude. No one’s happy, like ever. Nobody walks up smiling, nobody says thank you. Or please. Nope, what I get are sighs so dramatic you think I just ruined Broadway for them. Oh did I mention the eyes rolling so hard I would wonder how they are still attached? Geez, one guy earlier looked at me like I just kicked his puppy because I asked him to swipe his card again. Heaven forbid someone be mildly inconvenienced. And Gods help you if you tell them no. People look me dead in the eye, like I’ve personally betrayed them, like refusing that crusty, crumpled two-dollar coupon is the same as murdering their firstborn.

Screw it, ill say it. Just fuck me.  

So yeah. When my fifteen-minute break finally comes around, that’s my time. Me, me and only me. No fake smiles, no “how can I help you today?”, no playing referee between people who want to fight over the last half price piece of shit blender. Just me, silence, and whatever cheap caffeine I can scrape out of the break room. Really anything will do, just as long as it makes the hurting stop for a few minutes. I want to sit down, stare at the wall, and feel nothing. That’s the dream, baby. Not a beach in Cancun, not winning the lottery, just fifteen uninterrupted minutes where no one looks at me like I ruined their lives by doing my job. Yeah that's me right now. I am one more sigh, one more eye-roll, one more “but the customer is always right” away from snapping.

Lazy Sundays...

Series: Shorts series. Shorts are short one off stories done by request of the person generally in the story. Meaning, they will be self contained even if they have characters from other stories. Good for when you are looking for a quick fight that won't hurt your eyes reading for a long time.  

 Socials/Tip Jar: linktr.ee/TheCelticFire

Sora AI Video: 1 

 

 

 

The scene was really so basic American, that it could have taken place in any small city or old town. Kevin was middle-aged, solidly built but really unremarkable and never really standing out personality wise. His hair clung thick to his chest and arms, with his nature themed tattoos covering most of his upper body. He worked, he slept and he did nonsense on the weekends, pretty much like any other single American male. The guy that was next to him on the sofa, watching TV like it meant something, was James. James, also single and not caring, was slightly younger (not that it mattered much in your 40's), taller, and have a build that even a baggy shirt couldn't hide. Lady killer the boys at work called him. James, paid such nicknames no mind. During the day on weekdays, they worked at the local factory. They traded their labor, sweat, blood and youth for pennies on the dollar, and making some stuck up fat cat rich idiot even richer. During the weekends, they hung out a lot, mostly at James’s apartment. Beer, cheap takeout, the TV always on in the background. Not saying much, because they really didn't need to. When one got up for another drink, they grabbed another, for the other. When it was time for a new show, they changed the channel. They knew each other, and what clicked well. It was the kind of friendship and understanding that felt needed after dealing with everything and everyone else during the week.