One of the trio of juvenile brothers and sisters, along with his father, has been allocated to another workplace, so there's room at the top. The poisoned dwarf (another one of the teenagers from this little domestic disaster) called in sick yesterday. There is no evidence either way, but it seems no coincidence that it was the day of the town's annual festival, and the weather was bright. It was she that was pegged for promotion, being related to the hierarchy. Alas, the larger of the two thugs (brothers) that run the place have now put the village idiot in charge instead. This young man is by far the slowest work (this is fast food, remember), talks a lot, and like many of the others, makes animal noises often, wailing like a cat, mooing like a cow or barking like a dog. It is absolutely certain that this chimps' tea party is run by the least intellectual, wise and prudent people. That's okay too. What does one expect from Dark Age Britain? A good job? A career? Certainly not! I will now have to 'suck it up' and just do what this boy says (he has not yet reached 18). This is the guy that runs the tap without the plug in, "waiting for the water to get to the right temperature" then wonders why there is no hot water left, so uses the kettle. He does this every day, and no amount of sage advice from myself will ever stop this. Does he not know that the planet has only a finite amount of water? Evidently, climate change is not something high on this lad's agenda. I simply must get out of this job. One way or another, something's got to give.
Max.
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