It was by chance that I stayed in a hotel a couple of months ago in Orlando that was right across the street from a memorial dedicated to those who fought in the Battle of the Bulge in World War II.
My grandfather fought in that battle. Got wounded for life as one of the fine brave paratroopers there, but I’m so proud of him that he was part of the world’s history, and not just mine.
It’s a shame that being in the army wasn’t what did him in, but that the Veterans Hospital in Pittsburgh killed him with their neglect and shoddy care and his twunty doctor “Trang” (First name? Last name? Doctor Twat to me) took an otherwise happy and mostly healthy 80-year-old and stripped him of all dignity and sent him to an early grave.
Anyway, it’s not like y’all haven’t heard that song and dance around these parts before. But Memorial Day has been nothing but full of hurt and anger and sadness since we lost him. We used to celebrate our family and our soldiers. Now we just go to Five Guys for a cheeseburger (no grills allowed here) and wish my grandfather were still with us.
I’m preparing to go into my own battle of sorts. I need a job. I don’t WANT one, and I’ve enjoyed the past six months of not HAVING one. But alas, I am feeling too calm and too good about myself. It’s time to find the next employer to ruin all that.
But I also have a side project that doesn’t pay (yet) lined up to keep my brain in gear. Thank God. You will all know my real name one of these days (not like most of you don’t know it already!).
You know, I got so sick of the ex-employer claiming I was “Gucci” or “a splurge” or “overpaid.” (To deal with that kind of name-calling? Was not compensation enough.) And others with whom I interviewed, I was told I was “expensive.”
Well, now that my savings is depleted and my heart is equally empty, I’m glad you all have reduced me to poverty. Thanks for deciding not to pay me AT ALL because you couldn’t afford what I am WORTH. Fuck every single last one of you. Now that I’m broke again — ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?
That’s it. I’m going to the mattresses. And not the one that’s calling me from the next room. Not this time, anyway.