I'm really tired after working a double shift down at the pub. Yesterday it was pressured having the head chef and other porter breathing down my neck the entire time, and finally getting yelled at for asking to buy some food. Today was different, without those two cracking the whip - so to speak - the workforce simply went about their duties with efficiency, naturally. We all knew what to do, and simply go on with it, without the need for constant beasting.
In the Armed Services it is known as "the army B.S. factor", of which the elites are exempt. With the B.S. cut down, the soldiers simply get on with the task at hand, without any nonsense. Although I loathe my job (big-time), I realise that it will not be forever, one way or another. If I am Destined to work in pubs for the rest of my life, it will be as a musician, and not as a Kitchen Porter. If I do manage to find something else (intellectually stimulating) I might just hang around, but we'll see how we go.
Man, I'm tired. It was no easier today, excepting not being yelled at. I always go at full-pelt, and never stop working for even a single second. When yesterday the other K.P. said, "Don't slow up now." I replied, "That's what she said." The pun went completely over his head.
Today the humour in the kitchen was akin to Terence and Phillip from South Park. It was so base, so crude, and devoid of any sort of wit or intellect. Even the builders working outside (as I ceremoniously cleaned out the inside of filthy rubbish bins - my least favourite task - had humour on precisely the same level. I cannot stand tolerating the company of these simpletons, yet I must do my duty, without complaint. It has been a tough day, so I'm going to crash. Good night.
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