So you are dealing with someone, who already months ago came in the breakroom running an absurd fucking line about getting rich, like the guy from London, at the chiropractor, even upon opening the door, he doesn't turn at say a 90 degree angle, but we were both approaching the door, and he did an entire 180 degree, with a cheshire cat grin, like that creepy kid on Christmas story that kept staring at Ralphie in line...nothing odd there. As he left, he asked me about AI and making millions from it, which I gave him my best. The table is set, so there you go, loves, the grabbing hands take all the can. Hasn't been my flavor, but it does seem incessantly throughout my life it needs to be my fucking flavor....
So...when the youth comes in, as I am working in the back, doing my job, of processing out spoiled items...we want to ask over 10 questions of me, in succession, of which that money matter was sandwiched in between, and the nonverbals, including smiling at one's clever series of ass-antics, in asking questions of me, while not even listening seemed like fun for him at the moment. I then asked him, why are you doing this. To tactfully give him the hint that he is entirely off with me, with this game. Then, he persists, with more questions, of which I field, and yet, I already knew what I was going to do next, as I am trying to do my damn job...what did I just say? Of which he laughed and said he didn't even know, which I already followed a long time ago, and he thinks the disrespect is humorous. Why? Why is this funny? I am likely more than double your age, graduated with a few degrees, did a lot of things outside of that like music, informatics, and now art...of these rigors of process. I'm that, AND I have what I need, kid (classroom ass-antics w/ someone double your age = Adult N/A). We are on a rock, spinning around fire, the empire of dirt is a wash, and you need to run the clever routine with me like I'm not onto you, including the ass-antic in the breakroom. Then as I tell you to please leave, you want to play it up like you don't know what's happening. So you did the irrationalizing routine, and now you want to dig a little deeper, in the entirely wrong fucking way, to irrationalize further. You know what you did. You can roll the cameras and see how absurd that was. The line of incessant questioning...and as I am talking, there are those fine noverbals, of you thinking to yourself and even smiling at the next question line you are about to feed what seems to be a puppet on a string to serve your need to pass the time. And I was very clear in already knowing when I asked...what did I just say, one would be at a loss, and yes, that would piss anyone off. You are soliciting me, you are engaging my mind (when I am working) in a way that intends on disengaging in such an obvious fucking manner which is adding insult to injury and you think that is fun. It's not fun. It's complete disrespect. You can stay away from me. I don't treat people that way. It's like a grown adult acting like this is high school and asking the teacher a series of questions to waste the entire class's time. Leave that shit in high school and dig a little deeper in the other direction. When you converse, aim to make a connection. Life is short, and people matter. I've seen too many people come and go far too fast in this life. It's not a game. It might seem amusing to you, but it's not to anyone. Especially, we, the older adults, likely more than double your age, who are not your same-age buddies or day ones. Grow up. You ask a question mean it, don't attempt to play games at someone's expense...like the one who can't follow what you are doing...if I don't say anything. Sometimes I don't but I've got work to do...and I'm done after I drop that tactful hint...which most folks, up to no good would have got that one and exited, but you kept going. Great!
At the end of the day, people around me are respectful...but it only takes one, and among a particular networked play, sure, you got my background which means I'm fun and games for you. Arrogance. Tell you what, do what I did academically, if you want to play it up like that, then come back and try that shit again...then you will understand how disrespectful that was. Most people can follow that, not simply of someone with my background but in general my age. It doesn't stop. At all. Ever.
It's the way matters go for those who hold mindful rigor who reside on the lower margin, which isn't a hand up, or hand out, or hunger, or any other framed deficit. I'm fine and dandy with my life among my mom and art, but for some folks striving for the fucking mirror, with some superficial fucking framing, they need to have that go with me. I am tired of this shit. When does it stop! And when there isn't a manager around...here we go again. That bullshit.
You like your money...Great, like that shit. It's fine by me. The world's a beautiful mess and people are different. If you are into rigors of process, then keep up...isn't your thing, fine...and yet, live and let live, not at all. It's gun for me, with some irrational fucking framing, coupled with the very disresepect of carrying on like I'm chopped liver when anyone of a similar background already knows, the vast majority of people are never going to hit that competitive mark academically like I did. Once upon a time that warranted respect, but I mean, when you are in the lower caste it seems, fuck this alumnus...let all throw rocks at the fucker until he's off his rocker. No one should have to deal with this ever. My success isn't your opportunity to fuck with someone...and it's easy when you flat out don't give a damn in a variety of ways, because I have observed how you think of your job and treat many of the people around you in ways that they don't really appreciate. And now, it's my turn...again. I'm going to raise hell if you even flinch in my direction with that bullshit. Take your mentality, your attitude, and your ass-antic games back to the kids table. I don't have the time.
Even in the opening line of this absurd questioning, one remarks the previous coach of the online department, hired him on the spot, and why do I think that is, when others hired took a lot longer? Okay...seems like there's something there I should fear I guess, or maybe have a concern, when at the end of the day, I'm here to do a damn job. How about that! And another oddity, is soon after the ass antic, then all of a sudden, we have customers asking me to search for items in dry grocery in a succession that doesn't read as mere coincidence, but it could be. Still, it's a bit odd, and regardless, the series of questions coupled with not even listening as I answered the questions you directed in my way...disrespect. It's so nice to see what the value system is in this country. You could be dumb as fuck, but hey, you got money, that now takes authority over any matter of mindful rigor...can we see where this bullshit is headed. So by all mean, feel free to disrespect again, and watch hell, fire and fucking fury coming at your ass. I'm done. Managers want to dip out and let this go down, it's corporate and lawyers, and emails to every organization around...everyone want's to sleep on this behavior...it's fun and games...got it. I'll just take matters into my own damn hands, and it's going to be a fucking mess by the time I'm done. Again, I'm done. I come into work, to work. I am not a big talker when there is a task at hand...but yes, I like where I am at and the people....but then....hit job in such an obvious fucking way. You ask questions but you do not listen....you drop subjects and find amusement at what you are getting at....disrespectful games when I am trying to keep up with counts and do my damn job....
Pissed. Anyone else sure as hell would be pissed at that as well. Waste someone's time and roll up like I am your puppet on a string and drop subjects like...hired right away...job doesn't pay enough...why not go for the money....tell me how does it all work....so on and so forth...like I said I am ready to raise hell over this. I come to work to work. And you are at liberty to play it up in my direction...hell no.
I do not think of myself as better than....nor would I waste someone's time with games...pissed! Double your age and that is what I am...the one of a level of respect like that of your friends half my damn age....again, not to mention my background which isn't to count. Even among the workplace that had been indicated. So if you have money and you compete at one of the best unis...it is respect. If you aren't adorned with material frame then it is a golden ticket for folks to still to this fucking day dog you out and drag you through the mud. I mean you don't have money so clearly you are a dumbfuck in my irrational dimwitted book....makes so much sense. Should I play trivia pursuit to prove myself because that is what you expect post grad....to constantly be in need of proving for folks who can't even acknowledge they didn't do this...not my thing, or even flat out studies weren't my strong point....we can't be all strenghs...we cant be everything to everyone...no need to be insecure....can't be an easy feat...obviously strongpoints to hold that achievement....cool. He's doing his thing. And I am interested in other folks doing their thing....but here we go....the insecure and arrogant playing that fine game of disrespect...so you want to size up to me with some half baked, contrived set of questions you initiated all the while checking out on everything I say. Great. I am your toy for the time being to pass the time along with subjects that smack of framed deficit, that smack of arrogant superiority, of the one holding the silo of knowledge to me when last time I checked knowledge runs through....so when you converse...it is to be genuine...there is an effort to understand especially when you are firing away with the questions....and when they keep coming....when all indicatons demonstrate you checked out....and the only focus is to catch a quick clip of something and focus further on something contrived...to observe your own amusement as I talk. When I even call out what did I just say, and you laugh and do not know...Pissed. You asked the questions. You apparently wanted to do that and I wasn't for a meeting of the mind....so what was it? What were you doing because that was an action! What purpose was the action serving. All may ot may not be the case...but I do know you solicited questions.....all the while you were not listening, so why ask? What was the intent because an exchange of idea was observably not driving this action. Am I the hollow body here to amuse you? To be tacitly belittled to achieve something, of a particular dynamic...You wasted my time, all for what purpose. Considering your humorous expressions that you could not hold back, while I talked, there seemed to be a need to achieve something. What were you achieving?
You ask the questions and you are not even listening? What is driving this? What does this establish?
Genuinely pissed. Not disturbed. Pissed!
Even among conversation, question after question? Conversing? And you are not listening? What does this serve?
Why do that...shall we pretend? It was all innocent?
So nice to see the workplace is your house and you can treat people however the hell you please. Just an innocent conversation with questions firing away and not even listening to the answers, of what this mind is worth....hollow body to serve....Guess it was the entertaining hot air that inspired you to continually ask a question, check out, cherry pick, ask again...and again, and again...because this is what a conversation does, this is what genuine connection is about.....question, question, question, question, question, until it reads wrong....question, question, hint what are you doing....question, question, question....what did I just say....????....please, get out of here. Games. Disrespectful games!
And when you consider the entire context...someone in the breakroom putting that hit, about making money on you...London smiles, MI6, soliciting in such an odd manner desiring an opportunity with AI and millions...graduate school the MI6 liaison, immediately, roommate from Alabama, now at Vanderbilt, with the other professor, who was at a distance as my Aunt figure, who tried to previously catch me into an IRS debacle, decided, in our distant times, to offer a congratulatory dinner...like the rest of the family unit just so enthused, all of a sudden about my admission into graduate school...on the debate circuit that professor, Vanderbilt, at a distance observing...upon arrival, that roommate, Alabama, now at Vanderbilt...so I go from studious, responsible, to seemingly the one who can be portrayed among a family unit, who just "loves" me, with this fine play from a sociopathic father figure...who likes to beat women, pump fists and honk his horn at people inconveniencing him...not to mention place hands on necks while folks sleep...stroke anyone...have battery cables pulled and well what happens after that...fuck it. So trafficking ops by a fine unit as I am you know on the path that earned, now a silver platter for the criminals I'm related too...who like to smile in the mirror and pretend. Much like an in-law drops by and gives me that look, it's subtle but I get something is up. To all of a sudden among decades of almost not face to face interaction, we desire to come visit. I know better, and at least some of us in that group follow that too. It's off. We all get it. But again, it's off, like other voices, other rooms. So here we are, and someone is telling me about an odd opportunity, set up, involving yet again an Aunt figure, Father figure, and inherently considering when we are at the table with the family matriarch, first and foremost, you are to share in her politics of the minority being a varmint. So, yes, I am asked what it would mean to work for a consulting firm that never contacts the firms it consults. Just sits in a room passing along half-baked ideas, the book is shut, then everyone is paid...and when one delivers an actual solution for an elevator problem...to the manager and the manager thanks one for an actual solution and makes clear never to let the team know of this...I mean, when the team knows they are caught up into a trafficking scenario and you do that, and they realize you are still in the process of being trafficked...and this is a Georgia Tech grad...must feel real nice to get that backhand. And again, when asked specifically in the kitchen...and my response...I think it's money laundering, and that nervous laugh and fake as smile from the sister figure, responding "that's what we though." No love, that's not it at all. You are a liar. Maybe if I'm not working out, you need another body to gut out so you can run slavery 3.0...4.0...etc... To be a fucking family...So yes, in part of that trafficking. the critical aspect of that play is to share notes to a group in the mirror, looking respectable, that this is the one, of dimensionless existence that we are justified in treating this way. Then it's a spin of intelligence among an incessant onslaught of pawns, ready to server for their opportunity, half assed in everything because they don't give a fuck, just gunning with the notes because it's just that fucking easy. Here we have the grabbing hands...the one at the surface...we have our records to prove, he's a meat body living in a meat world, among the mirror, disconnected...he's the one below us, he's the new slave play, our very own ichneumon wasp candidate...build him up, portray, headstone for the broken-hearted type of shit...listen to the little devil talk. We knew who he was all along...and yet, that play...and of course the wolves in sheep clothing dolling up the sheep in wolves clothing...I mean when it's seeing is believing, no air to breathe, no process of behavior traced, just that pretty fleece we can all trust, much like the innocence of a sister figure killing with kindness and playing matters innocent. How lovely...and when it's all said and done and enough Darwinian wasp bodies are in play...I mean, certain groups, of wealth and power, at least if we are being superficial, but you know these people of a design orienting toward the rigors of process rather than the plays of superficial supremacist allure (money anyone) will be back in that violent blood bath again.
So among this macro context, you fire away at these questions...and even guide the matter to why not go for the money. I'm entirely fucking pissed. I'm going to work to work. Not take a hit from your youth gunning for his opportunity, too goddamn clever to even realize his arrogance. Like the sister figure...just all innocent. Don't know at all what's going on there. It was all innocent. I mean to happen to guide IDK, someone who seems to be divorcing you into a money laundering scheme, and once caught up...human trafficking anyone? How nice.
Cool! Just one big misunderstanding, over and over again. To be this fucking smart, and take your shots with someone who can raise hell over this...by all means do it again, I'll strike up the writing, this fine time of me needing to be among determinate space, and start digging a little deeper and disclosing a lot more, that isn't going to bode well for anyone when it's all done. Go ahead...youth. Get your opportunity at my expense today. You want a game...I can flip this in a direction that will be pure hell for a lot of people. Keep it up.
You want to live it up like the lives, LIVE, on the television screen...because it seems to be making it...you know the great carrot machine that we all are to chase...by all means, this is fun and games for you, among matters of small world network. I mean if you want in on this acid bath...it can easily be arranged and all without your permission. I'm born into the shit. And yet, I mean, when it's fun and games. Now, what did I just say? When all looks so nice? And yet, when the older crew on this rock spinning around fire follow how it actually goes down. Go ahead. Get your piece of pretty hate machine hell today. Let this existence be your very own quest for an empire of dirt so you can sit in your death bed, blitzed, not even capable of getting what just happened. I should go for the money? I should go for the money? Why not go for the money? Money! It just seems so innocent doesn't it. I mean, when you are not tied to matters small world it can be...and here you are fucking with small world just because you can because some industrial starfish is in-need of getting at me through the mindless dribble that will set up her chop shop for breaking all matters democratic entirely down. Kind of like when admitted into University of Kentucky, with the help of her trusty smiles, next door, we can surely make the entire produce department and entire wreck as I walk in each and everyday...and when you are smiling to my face, being a "good friend" like I don't see past that bullshit...I mean you certainly don't like the new wlamart symbol, because of what it represents, 6 points. Crosses to Hypatia. Christian Social Party to Nazism. Martiarch jerking the back of my hair quoting every 50 years, and naturally I am the minority varmint. I mean, when you skipped the books and have a lot of fuck you money...that's living! Dick on expensive shit. It looks so easy doesn't it, and I mean, being so loyal to any and all including starfish that skipped the books...I mean it will get you closer to the dick on expensive shit bug light. Shake hands with beef. Real doll time. Go ahead, get that shit. And by all means, gun for me, I'll roll out a hell of a lot more then. If that's the direction we all need to take, then let's do this.
Get to know me, in that way!
And someone selling their ass out to play it up pawn. By all means...It's fun and games until you know, small world gives you your wish. Not born into this...most don't make it. If you can't move pieces...and who really would if you are not born into the bullshit. But it does look so pretty pretty, and naturally, my desires that didn't "know what I want" desires art, works at Walmart, and opted to come back to hang with my mom because we are very close and we are always good for each other. But man, I'm missing out on life arent I, and this is your fucking place in this world to gun for me however the fuck you please. Come on, player. Bring your games to my doorstep again. Come...my...way. Let's light this shit up!
All can welcome you to this cage play. Emerald city gold, have at it and me however the fuck you please. Let's go! Bags...Bags! It's all about the bag. Get it!
