#and I don’t get why corporations don’t hire people who know what they’re doing

[bugeyedfreaks]

ppg merch really confuses me. sometimes it'll be the original logo with reboot artwork, or the reboot logo with original artwork, or it'll be all reboot or all original. like why is it like that???

I have two theories:

1) They mix and match designs because they think that people who are used to the reboot designs and people used to the original designs will recognize the brand no matter which version they’re familiar with and will more likely purchase the product (which is stupid).

2) Whoever is running the brand sends all sorts of style guides to manufacturers and product designers, and because they aren’t fans and can’t tell the difference between designs, they just use whatever they think looks good (and this is bad because nobody in this situation is doing their job even remotely right).

There’s also the secret third theory where 3) they just think all consumers are also stupid and won’t notice. Which is incredibly insulting. That’s why I don’t buy products where they mix and match the designs.

Actually, tying in with the 3) theory, they could be doing this for market testing purposes. They might be trying to see if a particular combo of designs sells more product. This is also information they could potentially use for another reboot to make new designs more “marketable.” They’re also banking on whether or not your average consumer is savvy enough to know the difference between reboot/original designs… and I think unfortunately PPG normies (affectionate) don’t have the same knowledge as fans and will probably just buy something if it says “Powerpuff” and not care. ☹️

[sainamoonshine]

A note to all creatives:

Right now, you have to be a team player. You cannot complain about AI being used to fuck over your industry and then turn around and use it on somebody else’s industry.

No AI book covers. No making funny little videos using deepfakes to make an actor say stuff they never did. No AI translation of your book. No AI audiobooks. No AI generated moodboards or fancasts or any of that shit. No feeding someone else’s unfinished work into Chat GPT “because you just want to know how it ends*” (what the fuck is wrong with you?). No playing around with AI generated 3D assets you can’t ascertain the origin of. None of it. And stop using AI filters on your selfies or ESPECIALLY using AI on somebody else’s photo or artwork.

We are at a crossroad and at a time of historically shitty conditions for working artists across ALL creative fields, and we gotta stick together. And you know what? Not only is standing up for other artists against exploitation and theft the morally correct thing to do, it’s also the professionally smartest thing to do, too. Because the corporations will fuck you over too, and then they do it’s your peers that will hold you up. And we have a long memory.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking “your peers” are only the people in your own industry. Writers can’t succeed without artists, editors, translators, etc making their books a reality. Illustrators depend on writers and editors for work. Video creators co-exist with voice actors and animators and people who do 3D rendering etc. If you piss off everyone else but the ones who do the exact same job you do, congratulations! You’ve just sunk your career.

Always remember: the artists who succeed in this career path, the ones who get hired or are sought after for commissions or collaboration, they aren’t the super talented “fuck you I got mine” types. They’re the one who show up to do the work and are easy to get along with.

And they especially are not scabs.

*that’s not even how it ends that’s a statistically likely and creatively boring way for it to end. Why would you even want to read that.

[crashimminent]

Hello! Might I request transmasc Anya headcanons if you do those things? Anything is fine, I just want my daily dose of transgender. Yum!

YESSSS YES YES YES ANON YOUR BRAIN

I will be referring to Anya by He/Him pronouns on this post- if this isn’t what you had in mind, please correct me!

The big question is always “is he on hormones?” and honestly? No, I don’t think so.

T can be a lot! Gel can feel gross, shots can be scary and painful, patches may slip, etc etc etc.

Not to mention costly. He’s already struggling with nursing school, damn it. A prescription is just another hassle.

Top surgery is definitely on the plans up there. He’s still anxious about the idea, but knows he won’t really regret it.

Until then, his binder will do. He takes extra precaution to follow the safety rules, especially while in space.

Pony Express hired him, at the very least. Even if they’re a corporate who’s likely deeply transphobic at their core, they want money, damn it!

It’s sort of illegal to ask about that anyways. So it’s fine.

He prefers to wear bigger, baggier clothes. Nurse scrubs tend to be unisex, so it’s not like his clothes options are limited…

But sweaters and turtlenecks seem to be big favorites.

He likes his long hair too. It’s easy to tie back into a ponytail. Frames his face nicely.

The socks and sandals were deliberate though. That was a specific euphoria producing thing. People groan and call him an old man.

It’s just a nice idea to think he’d get there. To grow old as himself.

It’s not really poorly received though. The crew has other worries than the personal lives of the others.

Jimmy himself isn’t really… transphobic. Just sort of… anti-Anya. He makes lots of remarks to make Anya feel self conscious or dysphoric.

Mainly about his body. A lot about his body. It’s hard to determine whether he’s trying to help Anya “pass”, or if he just wants to jab at insecurities.

Curly… is trying! He doesn’t quiiite get it, but he’s accepted Anya as “one of the boys”, and tries to engage in almost frat style humor.

And you know what? If there’s a different name he prefers, the name “Anya” is getting nigh erased from the ship. Curly sure likes his paperwork to be accurate, it it’ll be accurate!

Swansea doesn’t care. Really, why would he? He’s not thrilled to be on a ship full of guys, but it doesn’t change anything.

( He does chat up Anya though, compares him to his own sons every now and then. He’s an oldtimer, but that’s no excuse to be a bigot. )

Daisuke takes this as an invitation. Whenever Swansea isn’t working him like a dog, he’s down in medbay, talking about girls and sports and video games and whatever he can think of that Anya might have an interest in.

Like, Anya’s a guy, right? He’s GOT to be interested in girls. What do you MEAN that’s not how it works? Daisuke knows everything there is to know about the ladies, and he’s gotta tell the guy!

He seems to forget Anya used to have hands on experience.

It’s… a bit of a relief that the restrooms on the ship aren’t separated by gender.

The crew tries to give him space, even if he doesn’t entirely mind that much. They don’t go in the showers if they know he’s there.

Swansea once came in while he was showering. They didn’t really say anything.

What’s he meant to care? They’re in different stalls, and…

Well. Swansea has a bigger rack than him. If anyone’s staring, it’s Anya. (Which of course, he didn’t- he’s got priorities.)

It’s still a little awkward navigating the social environment as a trans guy- a lot of effort is put into making him fit in when he really just wants to be treated normally.

But it’s nice to be seen and heard about one thing.

[destinygoldenstar]

I just LOVE this detail in this trailer.

When Bubble literally comes out of Pomni’s mouth to ask “How can we support the production of this cool new show?”

Caine’s response is “Great question POMNI”

Even though Pomni was not the one who asked that question.

This could just be a gag of “Bubble is speaking for Pomni as they came out of her mouth” and I’m overthinking it. That’s probably what it is.

But I think Caine knows Pomni didn’t really ask that, he was just THAT enthusiastic about the promotion. It happened again at the start of the trailer when he ignored her response.

“Hey Pomni! Guess what?”

“No-“

“You’re right!”

And this is perfectly in character for Caine, as he constantly did this in the Pilot as well.

“We should have a brand new adventure for our new member, Pomni!”

“I said that like five minutes ago-“

-

“What do you think of XDDCC?”

“Uh-“

“You’re right, terrible! Let’s try that again!”

-

“Kaufmo abstracted?!! wHy DiDn’T aNyOnE tElL mE?!?”

I think this is such a great way of staying in character for both sides.

It would’ve been so easy to just have Pomni ask the question herself. But the writers knew that would’ve been OOC and Pomni would NEVER ask something like this.

None of the cast besides Caine and Bubble would honestly. The point is that none of them want to be here. And Pomni, despite being new, especially doesn’t want to be here. So they wouldn’t play along with Caine’s enthusiasm, ad or not.

But Caine being A.I, thinks that the humans would be, this plays along with a response that didn’t happen. Because HE finds it as entertaining as he makes it sound.

It’s more so a lack of awareness (how could he?) rather than intentionally silencing opposition. Opposition that he just thinks isn’t there.

Cause humans LOVE adventure, and ads, and merch sales, and internet porn-seriously why does that exist I hate the internet sometimes-

What I’m saying is that it’s showing that even in ads, these writers are getting the characters across really well.

I would say stuff like this makes me optimistic about the series, and… it does. But I’ll still cautiously optimistic.

Indie Animation just has it rough in writing skill in general and there’s multiple examples. That’s just cause writers in major corporations usually have to have several college degrees in the skill to get hired, and indie writers don’t have that burden and can jump right in so they’re often self taught. (But as a self taught writer myself for the most part, this is absolutely not meant to be slander. It’s not a bad thing if you know what you’re doing.)

So, you know, for all we know Digital Circus COULD tank in quality and end up as a trash fire with people complaining and whining forever about how great it ‘used to be’.

I hope that does not happen though and the writers at least are able to tell the story they want to tell effectively.

And so far, it seems like they are. As stuff like this shows that they are taking their time to flesh out the story the way they want to with how long the episodes are coming out, which I personally LIKE, as that means the steak can be fully cooked. And the news that the scripts for the whole series was written before the animations even started IS a good sign, which also means fan demand isn’t gonna plague the script and they’re gonna do what they want, which again, I personally think that’s a GOOD SIGN.

Cautious Optimism on my end. And details like this do emphasize that.

[nblraevart]

I know this is tumblr so I’m practically preaching to the choir but genuinely AI as its progressing today is so upsetting and I have to vent.

I genuinely think AI will make the average person less creative, or at least less proactive in stretching their imagination. Why learn to draw when I can prompt midjourney to do it for me? Why write a novel when I can give it a few buzzwords and themes and write that for me? What about past traditional creative fields? Why start thinking about how the math I learned in school can be applied in real life when I have AI to do my homework for me? Why come up with my own way of solving a leadership problem in my workplace when I can just hand the solution to Chat GPT? Less and less people will become inclined to even engage creatively with the world around them. I genuinely think AI will become a crutch not a tool. Look at Michael Cohen accidentally sending bogus legal documents. Its like there’s no escape everywhere you go its like its being force fed. Have Canva generate for you! Press backslash for Notion AI!

Thats not even getting to the workers rights. Tech bros will say its like when cars replaced horses but heres the kicker. We’re not the carriage drivers. We’re the bloody horses.

The intellectual jobs are being replaced by ai and the manual ones by automaton. Corporations have no incentive to hire pesky humans that might unionize and need health benefits when a computer will do it with no complaints. Its not like with can even come up with an actual plan for what humans should do. It’s as if all the holes are

Even if AI isn’t actually smart enough to replace people. Your CEO is stupid enough to think the opposite and they’re more than happy enough to eliminate the human variable.

It’s so sad that ai could be used and is being used for genuine good like detecting cancer cells and cleaning the ocean and interpreting sign language. But in this capitalist society that will prioritize profits over human lives its all feels hopeless.

I’ve seen the argument that AI will only replace the midlevel artists and their mundane work. Am I the only one who feels like its an insane take? Like people putting food on the table is not worthy

This feels like doom posting but that’s genuinely all I can feel. Even the fundamentally human jobs like therapy have tech bros lurking in the waters. Each day it feel like less of a joke to just to say fuck it don’t engage in the system drop off the grid with your friends and start a commune.

[arathergrimreaper]

Damn job wants a diversity statement on top of a resume and cover letter.

If I were braver, this would be the one I send with my app:

I must admit, most of my diverse experiences in life come from being a diverse person forced to squeeze myself into a comfortable, digestible little box for others every day. Not to say work hasn’t given me things to think about and improve upon, but what I bring to every job comes directly from what life has been like for me and the friends I have made. 

My data analyst job? I already knew how high those numbers of high-risk pregnancies would be before my first day. As well as the disparity in healthcare between races, genders, and people with disabilities and no money. Not even because of that fancy degree on my resume either, but because of reading people’s direct experiences with it online and in books and hearing them say it to my face. To say nothing of how I have been treated as a patient by doctors my whole life as a noticeably biracial, chubby, femme-presenting person. I never needed data on a chart to tell me life is grossly unfair, not because of divine providence, but because of money to be made by people who don’t care how they have to make it. Yet, corporations and organizations only ever want to hear about The Charts. Water is wet and we all know that. It’s not a trade secret.  The facts and figures as they look in little white boxes with a green border is all you want because “that’s just the way it is”.  I support diversity…because I’m tired of “the way it is”. 

“Diversity statement” sounds like an unfunny joke at best and an indictment of professionalism at worst. Why are we adding yet another barrier to getting a job in this “golden land of opportunity”? It’s almost like employers don’t actually want to hire anyone but they want the cookie points of pretending they’re sleuthing really hard for simply the best candidate in the world for a position that most people probably only fill for about a year or two. Newsflash: The majority of my generation are never going to be decades-long workers. We can’t afford to be. Prices are going up all the time and we always have to look forward, because if we don’t, we witness the burning of Sodom and Gomorrah and are turned into the saltiest, deadest professionals to ever waste four years of our lives. That’s not touching on the student loan payments starting back up that many of us still can’t afford despite three years of deferment. And I have to write some silly statement outlining exactly the steps I’m taking to diversify—let me tell you something, every breath I take on this unforgiving rock is how I further diversity. Every day I chose to get up and keep going despite everything telling me to quit, is how I further diversity. That includes this smarmy performative excuse of an assignment to make me feel like I’m not worthy of anything if I don’t grovel for it. You people should be ashamed, frankly. 

I’ve spent three hours writing and researching what a “diversity statement” even is supposed to be. Funnily enough, there is no true definition I can look to and apply as a data analyst just trying to get a slightly better position so I can have a slightly better quality of life. I write ‘funny’, but it’s really more insulting than anything. Diversity is already here. And will continue to grow no matter what we do. We just don’t appreciate it or stand up for it or want it for anything more than to say we put out the flames when all we did was yell “FIRE!”.

[frozentanukii]

The reason you see a lot of, usually tech companies, doing this recently is because of a ‘strategy’ that some asshole contrived.

It consists of starting a ‘hype period’, basically them announcing a new game or phone or LED gamer fridge or whatever they know a lot of people are going to buy. As a part of that hype cycle, they hire a ton of new people to convince potential shareholders that their company is becoming bigger, and that they need to invest *now*. The stock prices go up, the company stores the money from that rising stock price, then the stock crashes when the hype dies down. The company uses the money they stored away during the hype period to survive that crash, and if they played it right, they then get some extra profit from the leftover stored money.

After the crash, they announce something like “ooohhh we’re sorry, we know better now, and we’re going to be doing some restructuring to prove to you that we’re doing the best we can”. Basically, they try to convince their shareholders that they’re more trustworthy by taking accountability for the falling stocks. That ‘corporate restructuring’ consists of firing a lot of people to lower the expenses of the company, bringing them back to the point they were before, but now with some extra money.

This cycle occurs constantly, and that’s why, if you pay attention to company reports, firings for every company always occur at the same time of year for them.

This is a graph of that cycle for better visibility-

Technology trigger is the hype starter, Peak of Inflated Expectations is when they cash out and store the stock money, Trough of Disillusionment is the biding-the-crash period, Slope of Enlightenment is the restructuring (business speak for firing large amounts of people), which they do to try to restore brand image and trustworthiness with shareholders, and Plateau of Productivity is the restored balance, waiting to start the cycle again.

If you know what to look for, you can see a lot of companies trying to play this game. The ones that do it well are the corps that started the trend, like Google and Microsoft, while doing it wrong can bankrupt the whole company.

It’s a shitty thing to do, but companies don’t care about morality, if this is the most efficient thing for them to do, they’ll milk all that they can out of it. But in order to fight against them, you have to know what tools they’re using. I may have skipped over or simplified some aspects of the cycle in here to make this not ridiculously long, but that’s what’s happening with the constant layoffs recently. Thanks for reading this depressing look into the world of corporations. Have a great day.

And to the person who reposted this prior, my condolences for that whole situation. I hope you can find another job, be able to support yourself, and get some stability soon.

every single time

[rasheedcorley]

Elevate Your Event: Hiring Mixologists and Bartenders Made Easy

Have you ever thrown a party where the drinks just didn’t hit the spot? Or maybe you’ve attended a wedding where the bartender was a bit...underwhelming? I get it, it’s happened to me too. And if you’re like me, you don’t want that for your next event. You want people to rave about your cocktails long after the night ends. So, how do you make sure that happens? The answer is simple: hire mixologist or bartender who knows their craft and can keep your guests happy, engaged, and refreshed.

Today, I’m going to walk you through everything you need to know about bartenders for hire, mixologists, and even taking a cocktail-making class in London. Whether you're planning a corporate event, wedding, or a fun night with friends, this guide will help you make the right choice.

Why Should You Hire a Mixologist or Bartender?

First things first. Why even bother hiring someone? Can’t you just mix the drinks yourself?

Well, you could, but imagine this. You’re hosting a wedding or a corporate event, and instead of mingling with your guests, you're stuck behind the bar trying to remember the recipe for an Old Fashioned. Doesn't sound like much fun, right?

Here’s why it’s worth hiring professionals:

1. Expert Craftsmanship

Mixologists aren't just bartenders. They’re cocktail makers who elevate drinks into an art form. These guys know their stuff. Whether it’s classic cocktails like a Mojito or creating a bespoke seasonal menu for your event, they’ve got the skills. When you hire a mixologist, you're hiring someone who can take your event to the next level.

2. Customer Service Like No Other

Let’s be honest: It’s not just about making drinks. A good bartender or mixologist knows how to interact with guests. They’re friendly, professional, and ensure everyone has a great time. This is why companies and individuals are keen to hire bartenders who can multitask, have excellent time management, and offer top-notch customer service.

3. Professional Equipment and Ingredients

If you’ve ever tried to recreate a cocktail at home, you’ll know how hard it is to find the right ingredients and equipment. When you hire a mixologist, they come fully prepared. From spirits, syrups, garnishes, and even a full bar station, they’ll bring everything necessary to wow your guests.

When Should You Consider Hiring a Mixologist or Bartender?

There are so many occasions where a professional can turn a good event into an unforgettable one. Here are a few to consider:

Weddings

Weddings are all about the experience, right? Your guests will remember how they felt, and that often comes down to the little things—like the drinks. Having a skilled bartender ensures that the drinks are flowing and people are happy. Plus, who wouldn’t love a personalised cocktail menu at a wedding?

Corporate Events

Ever been to a corporate event that felt a little stiff? Hiring a bartender can help lighten the mood and create a more relaxed atmosphere. Whether it’s an office teambuilding event or a reception, a mixologist can add a touch of flair that impresses clients and employees alike.

Private Parties

Whether it’s a birthday, anniversary, or a just-because party, hiring a bartender gives you the chance to enjoy your own event without stress. They can even create a signature drink just for your night.

Cocktail Making Classes

Now, this is where things get really fun. If you’ve ever fancied yourself a budding bartender, why not take a cocktail making class london? It’s an interactive, hands-on experience where you’ll learn the secrets of mixology, perfect for groups or even as a solo adventure.

How to Hire the Right Mixologist or Bartender

So, you’ve decided to hire a mixologist or bartender. But how do you find the right one? Here’s what I’d recommend:

1. Experience Matters

When hiring a mixologist, their experience should be one of your top priorities. Have they worked in high-pressure environments like weddings or corporate events? Do they have knowledge of the latest mixology trends? A mixologist with experience is not just good with drinks but also with managing inventory, customer satisfaction, and keeping the bar organised.

2. Attention to Detail

In the world of cocktails, it’s all about the details. A good mixologist knows how to balance flavours, pay attention to garnishes, and use the right glassware. They should be passionate about creating visually appealing drinks that taste just as good as they look.

3. Look for Reviews

The best way to know if a mixologist is worth their salt? Check reviews. Previous clients will tell you whether their drinks were a hit, if their customer service was top-notch, and how they handled themselves under pressure.

4. Get a Custom Quote

Pricing for bartenders can vary, depending on your needs. Do you need them for just a few hours, or is this an all-night affair? Will they be creating bespoke thematic cocktails, or are you sticking to the classics? You should always get a clear breakdown of pricing, including any travel costs, so there are no surprises.

What to Expect from a Cocktail Making Class in London

Let’s talk about one of the most exciting activities you can do: attending a cocktail making class london. These aren’t your typical nights out. Instead, they’re immersive, interactive experiences where you can learn everything from the history of cocktails to the latest bartending techniques. And the best part? You get to drink what you make!

Here’s a breakdown of what you can expect:

Hands-On Learning

You won’t just be watching—you’ll be making your own drinks. Classes often start with an introduction to basic bartending techniques, like shaking, muddling, and layering. Then, you’ll get your hands dirty by making drinks with the guidance of an expert.

Craft Your Own Cocktails

Once you’ve learned the basics, you’ll have the chance to get creative. Most classes give you the option to create your own custom drink using a variety of liquors, syrups, and garnishes. Think of it as your chance to be a true mixologist for the night.

Social and Fun Atmosphere

These classes aren’t just educational—they’re a lot of fun. Whether you’re doing it solo or with a group of friends, you’ll have the opportunity to laugh, drink, and learn in a laid-back setting. Many cocktail classes in London even offer group bookings, perfect for corporate events or private parties.

Teambuilding and Corporate Events

Want a unique team-building activity? Cocktail-making classes are a hit with corporate teams. It encourages communication, creativity, and most importantly, it’s just plain fun. Whether you’re booking a private class for your team or joining a public class in places like Shoreditch, your team will appreciate the break from the usual.

Pricing and Duration

The cost of a cocktail-making class in London will vary based on what’s included. Typically, expect classes to run from 1-2 hours. Prices generally start around £30 per person but can go up depending on the location and what’s included in the package. If you’re booking a private session, there may be additional fees for venue hire or travel expenses.

What Does It Take to Be a Mixologist?

Ever thought about becoming a mixologist yourself? I’ve got to tell you, it’s a great career for anyone who loves working in the hospitality industry. But like any job, it requires a specific set of skills and dedication.

Here are the key skills every mixologist should have:

Customer Service Skills

Being a mixologist isn’t just about mixing drinks. You need to be great with people. Whether it’s a packed bar or an intimate private event, you should be able to interact with customers, handle complaints, and keep everyone satisfied.

Drink Knowledge

Knowing your way around a spirit bottle is essential. From the classics like gin and vodka to more exotic choices like absinthe or mezcal, a mixologist should have an in-depth knowledge of what they’re working with. Not only that, but you need to stay up to date with the latest trends in mixology.

Organisation

From managing inventory to keeping your bar station spotless, organisation is key. A good mixologist knows how to stay on top of things, even in a chaotic environment. Keeping your station clean and restocking as needed are just as important as the drinks themselves.

Creativity

What sets a great mixologist apart from a regular bartender is creativity. A great mixologist is always thinking about how to bring something new to the table, whether that’s through unique flavour profiles, drink presentation, or using seasonal ingredients.

Responsible Service

And of course, responsible alcohol service is critical. A professional mixologist knows how to gauge when guests have had enough and ensures that everyone is safe and enjoying themselves responsibly.

Final Thoughts: Should You Hire a Mixologist or Take a Cocktail Class?

Honestly, it depends on what kind of experience you want. If you’re planning an event and want your guests to have a truly special experience, hiring a mixologist or bartender is the way to go. It takes the stress off you and ensures everything runs smoothly. Plus, your guests will love the professional touch.

On the other hand, if you’re looking for a fun, interactive experience that lets you learn new skills, then a cocktail-making class in London could be just the ticket. It’s a great way to enjoy a night out while learning something new.

Whichever route you choose, one thing’s for sure: great cocktails make for great memories. So, go ahead, elevate your next event with a touch of mixology magic!

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY SMART PEOPLE HAVE A STARTUP IDEAS

That's one reason I'm not typing this on an Apfel laptop. Probably people have always overestimated the importance of where one goes to college. And users don't care where you went to college. It wouldn't be the first time that happened. Google might never have got to the point where anyone considers you worth attacking, you're doing well. At any given time, you're probably happiest on the main branches of the evolutionary tree pass through the languages that have the smallest, cleanest cores. That's two questions: was it wrong that you had to compress them into a single piece of advice, it might be: don't be a cog. Among other things, there will be a problem in fussier countries. Indeed, the great advantage of not caring where people went to college.

It was like watching a car you're chasing turn down a street that you know has no outlet. But maybe the older generation would laugh at me for saying that the way to get it. And in any case, many technical ideas do have political implications. Identifying this quality also brings us closer to answering a question people often wonder about: how many startups there could be. When I graduated from college in 1986, there were essentially two options: get a job or go to grad school at Harvard to cure you of any illusions you might have about the average Harvard undergrad. People aren't what some admissions officer decides about them at seventeen. And VCs are digging in their heels because they're not sure if they can make money buying less than 20% of each series A company to compensate for a 2x decrease in the stock sold in series A rounds creep inexorably downward.

And he could help them because he was one of the reasons the early corporate raiders were so successful. Finally, to the people who work there. So when people compare patent trolls to the mafia, they're more right than they know, because the number of big hits grow linearly with the total number of new startups? This implies that the kind of parallelism we have in a hundred years, I told you so. So much for hockey as the game is played now. It helps them to hire the best people, and promoted from within based largely on seniority. Patents, like police, are involved in many abuses. The unfortunate thing is not just that people are judged by such a superficial test, but that it's obvious. I'm not proposing that all numerical calculations would actually be carried out using lists. Because founders have the upper hand, they'll retain an increasingly large share of the stock in, and control of, their companies. We did it in Arc, and it seems to be able to imagine unlimited resources as well today as in a hundred years is so that I know what branch of the tree to bet on as t approaches infinity. Startups are the kind of work that yields good languages is distressingly small.

Patent law in most countries says that algorithms aren't patentable. Are we heading for a world in which Windows is irrelevant. It's this pattern that makes them startup hubs. If you develop ideas in a startup, this would be an optimization, not part of the game. Under the present rules, patents are of secondary importance. It seemed possible to start your own company in 1986 too, but it's where the trend points now. This is a very real element in the valuation of our entire company.

And I've met a lot of equally good startups that actually didn't happen. Where Amazon went over to the dark side was not in applying for the one above. Fortunately for startups, big companies are extremely good at denial. Many people still seem to have caught big companies by surprise. Although a lot of progress in that department so far. There are two big forces driving change in startup funding: it's becoming cheaper to start. If there were a reputable investor who invested $100k on good terms and promised to decide yes or no within 24 hours, they'd get access to almost all the best deals. For example, Unisys's attempts to enforce their patent on LZW compression. The best thing would be if the silicon valley were not merely closer to the interesting city, but interesting itself. It used to suck to be an angel investor. Despite all the patents Microsoft holds, I don't know of an instance where they sued a startup for patent infringement.

This approach tends to yield smaller, more flexible programs. The German and Dutch governments, perhaps from fear of elitism, try to ensure that all universities are roughly equal in quality. For example, can this quality be taught? And when Jobs found someone to give Apple serious venture funding, on the condition that Woz quit, he initially refused, arguing that he'd designed both the Apple I and the Apple II while working at HP, and there was no reason he couldn't continue. You don't do that if you and a couple friends decide to create a silicon valley in another country. But that is at least a handful of close friends in college anyway. Another way to burn up cycles is to have a silicon valley in Germany, because you make them by default. It matters more to make something great and get a lot of opportunity there. As with gangs, we have a remarkable coincidence to explain. But this can't be an intrinsically European quality; previous generations of Europeans were as ambitious as Americans. Mike Moritz seems a good trend and I expect this to be as true in a hundred years?

Thanks to Fred Wilson, Yuri Sagalov, Paul Buchheit, Sam Altman, Jessica Livingston, Marc Andreessen, Sarah Harlin, Trevor Blackwell, and Chris Dixon for the lulz.

[iwantsomefries]

Oh my god I’m so glad I found this because this is so important.

Before I start, Nintendo has had a pretty transphobic past with Birdo/Birdette and all. People instantly thinking they’re pandering because they don’t believe the greedy multi-million dollar company had a Grinch’s “heart-grew-three-times-as-large” moment is not unreasonable. Despite that, no, your first response shouldn’t be “token-pandering,” but that’s more to do with conservatives painting it as such than the topic of actual tokenization, and should be an internal question you ask yourself to why you think about it that way.

As for token pandering, it IS a thing, but people water down the term because they hate anything rainbow or not white so they claim something is tokenized to avoid acknowledging this newly accepted thing in media as real, plain and simple. People SHOULD call out shitty practices that big companies do because they know it’s what is accepted in the media. Republicans and conservatives are gonna get mad either way, but that shouldn’t excuse companies basically doing nothing to protect the minority groups that they represent within their medias when they use them as shiny tokens to hide their shitty writing.

A trans character being made explicitly (or implicitly) clear to be trans isn’t pandering. A character mentioned to be in a same-sex relationship isn’t pandering. Changing a character to not be white isn’t pandering either! But when you forget to write them as CHARACTERS or their part of the story (or the ENTIRE story if they’re the main character) that revolves around them as relatable characters, your only reason for including them is to fit a quota, and the story around them is lackluster because you banked on that media sparkage, it will show.

It’s why I fucking despise big corporations making diverse, non-white characters because it’s often NOT out of the kindness of their hearts or to tell diverse, engaging, and memorable stories, but because it gets them publicity and people talking, especially if it’s something like racebending (which I won’t get into as I’m white, but it’s what comes to mind when it comes down to shitty companies taking advantage of minorities by using them as shields for bad writing. For the record, I see nothing wrong with turning an originally white character into a POC, I’m just saying there’s a pattern of it being linked to bad writing, which isn’t on the POC’s group’s fault, it’s on the writers).

Don’t get me wrong, diversity in bad media can still do some good and we should still celebrate diverse characters we like, but let’s not forget it’s still a giant card of “LOOK GUYS WE MADE SOMETHING NEW AND PROGRESSIVE! AREN’T WE SO TOLERANT?” As if companies like Disney haven’t shown to be shitty regarding LGBTQ+ topics, not to mention Disney’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it representation is HARDLY anything to celebrate nowadays. On top of that, if the movie/piece of media flops because it’s a badly written or mediocre movie or piece of media, then people are more inclined to blame the newest addition to it instead of the writing, which leads to hatred going to the minority group doing their job as an actor, voice provider, etc. It’s unfair to the minority group(s) you hire to be your fucking shield for your shitty writing.

Ultimately, minority groups are given a choice a lot of the time: Gain a hint of representation and pray that the writing is good (and/or deal with people falsely claiming token-pandering), or gain representation and then be used as scapegoats when the piece of media they’re being represented in fails. Diversity isn’t a bad thing and I sure as hell don’t think it’s being forced if your mermaid is black, or Velma is Indian, or the trans character who was implicitly trans is now explicitly trans. Anyone bitching over that is sad and pathetic. I’m saying that we should witness the trend of diverse yet badly written shows or movies or media in general, and how people use diversity as a shield because it’ll protect them against backlash.

In short, minority groups aren’t your fucking shields. Write LGBTQ+, BIPOC, disabled, and other minority groups as people damn it!

I think we should put this on every post people try to fuck around on

[underthemoonglow]

In January of 2023, I was fired for the first time and it hit me hard,

I still don’t have a job.

For most people being fired doesn’t mean anything, they move on and start applying for jobs right away, they don’t take it personally, but I’m not most people, and I know the way I was raised has everything to do with that. Most people are well-adjusted and don’t have my awful self-esteem. Most people don’t have their self-worth tied to their jobs.

But being fired felt like I got the wind knocked out of me. The job I had before that one was awful, every day I walked to work and crossed the street without looking in hopes that I would get hit by a car and die, so when I finally found a better job I thought I had found what I had been looking for my whole life, stability, I was good at that job, I liked the job, I liked the company, I liked the people there and for some reason, it seemed that they liked me too, so when I was fired, without warning, without ever being given any feedback, after only three months, after three months of compliments about my work, it felt like something I always suspected to be true, that I don’t deserve to have happiness and every joy I find in this life will be taken from me because that’s what happened. I was never given a proper explanation either, just some bullshit corporate excuse.

Now, after a year and a half, my mental health has never been worse, but I have never had so much perspective, and unfortunately, I can’t take back this time. The first few weeks and months of being fired are the most important for getting a new job and for the first several months I was in shock, frozen, and couldn’t do anything but cry, but I can’t tell a recruiter about that, I can’t tell them that for those first months the thought of a job interview was enough to trigger an anxiety attack, that I couldn’t even open a word document to update my resume without anxiety, because I thought I had found my place, finally, I thought I would be happy and that was taken from me without a second thought. It did feel personal.

Companies do not want to hire someone with mental health issues because they might need days off or might quit right after being hired, they’re unpredictable, but they also do not want to hire someone who was fired after three months, especially without a proper reason. I can’t go to one of the few interviews I get and tell them about the fragile state of my mental health, how mentally I am holding on by the skin of my teeth and I do not handle rejection well and I’m not sure if I can deal with yet another rejection and please hire me because I am desperate and unwell.

If I quit a job, that’s bad because they don’t want someone who will quit. If I was fired, that’s bad too because they don’t want someone who was fired and is probably bad at their job.

I can’t take back the several months of being in shock, of anxiety attacks and insomnia, but I am trying to do better, apply for jobs I’m overqualified for, keep everything logged into a fucking spreadsheet, smile in interviews even though I’m dying inside, I am trying.

The problem is, nobody fucking cares, nobody fucking cares that I am trying, nobody cares because that’s not how the world works.

Cold emails, job applications, being ghosted by recruiters, companies that only cared about lowballing you, fake job postings, “remote” but you’re required to live in that city for some fucking reason, ridiculous requirements. I don’t feel hopeful. I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel. I don’t see how anything is getting better anytime soon, if at all.

A year and a half. I am still trying though I’m not sure why.

[blackleopardgirl]

  It’s always interesting to me to see men saying that the end of western civilization is near because women apparently aren’t willing to date them. They have this idea that one day there will be these giant revolts all because men and women aren’t dating, getting married and creating families at the frequency as they once were (gee- I wonder if inflation, and stagnant wages since the 70s have anything to do with that? Nope? Its all women’s fault? Of course!) That this means that there will be some kind of giant revolt against mankind as we know it. 

  How dramatic, then he goes on to say something else that’s equally unhinged, which was that women are the reason as to why men aren’t inherently violent. If you need the opposite gender DATING and having sex with you (because that’s all they care about) to not sh00t innocent people and harm those in society that haven’t done anything to you, then you need help from a mental health professional!   I can’t understand the levels of delusion a person must be operating under, to where they truly believe that because the women they want sex from won’t talk to them, that this automatically means that more vi0lence will take place in society; that dumb fuck Hafeez tried saying that shit years ago on his flop podcast to a woman years ago. 

  Women are not responsible for men being sexually frustrated, and if we don’t want to date certain men, then we don’t have to. The fact that the creator of the video then turns around and says that because women essentially don’t “know their place in society” now they can’t be surprised if men want to intact vi0lence against them and the general population of innocent people. This is why most women when asked on Tik Tok said they’d rather be stuck with a BEAR in the woods than a random men, because imagine the random man being THIS entitled and unhinged, to where if you aren’t sleeping with him, now he thinks he has the right to abuse and possibly K1ll you? 

  I don’t think he cares at all about young women and their mental health. He just used that as a point to say, “Hey look! Feminism makes women sad, and have mental health issues!” There are other reasons as to why young women aren’t happy or have mental health issues at such young ages, there is a lot of pressure and stress surrounding attending school, what to do with your career and life, and how to handle your finances, and then on top of that there’s stress surrounding politics and the dangerous decisions of political leaders that are in power. 

  He also was angry about how young, white men are truly oppressed in the united states, and if I an interpreting what he’s trying to say- he’s just angry that there’s more competition in corporate America. When young (white) men, don’t have higher status, they aren’t seen as desirable in dating, and this is why men like him complain about this. They feel as though they’re being slighted because of some oppression against them in corporate America and in higher education. They believe that they truly should be in higher positions in life, when they probably just weren’t the best option? This is why they love to obsess and get angry over ‘diversity hires’. 

  He also isn’t that attractive, but then again that’s just me. He also doesn’t seem to be that fun, he talks about how terrible it is that more and more young women are leaning more left, and more young men are leaning more right and this is bad due to the fact that young men and women won’t be able to interact with one another and have babies. He’s just angry that young women that he’s probably interested in aren’t right wing like him. He’s just upset that a lot of women in our country are not conservative, there’s plenty of other Inc3ls online who also have an issue with women for this matter. Who cares if they aren’t conservative? Oh, you do, because those women aren’t believing in what you want to believe in- and she most likely won’t want to date you when she finds out that you’re a conservative.

  They complain about not having relationships with women, but they haven’t gotten it through their heads that they have poor social skills, bad experiences with communication with other PEOPLE, not just other women, and low levels of self esteem. You are the problem, and the amount of entitlement they have in terms of social relationships with women is insane. He is so disgusting he ends the video saying that there will be a mass r4pe issue in our country, stating that young men won’t care which women they s3xually abuse and harm during this hypothetical civil war. He says that this war will be ideologically based, meaning that it’ll be a war of the conservatives versus those on the left. He says that the war would probably leave most men on the conservative side, and most women on the left side, making most women victims of the angry and vi0lent men because they couldn’t have s3x. That’s such a disgusting thought, and the fact that men like him want that in our society says everything you need to know about a majority of men. This is why I’m never upset for too long that I don’t have a boyfriend, listen to how they think of women when they don’t get what they want from us, which is s3x, they feel entitled to our bodies. They are so gross, this is why they love the idea of supporting pro life causes and taking away contraception from young women, they love the idea that we’re 2nd class citizens in this country because it gives them some sort of power and thrill. They’re sick. He ends what he’s saying by ensuring that he doesn’t want any of this to happen (yea right) and tells young women to “watch out” and “be careful” be careful of WHAT?! THIS is what I don’t get about men like him, they get mad when women are nice but don’t want to date them, when women ignore men, and then they’re mad when women nicely reject men. YOU JUST WANT WOMEN TO SAY YES TO SOMETHING THAT THEY DON’T WANT WITH YOU! YOU’RE THE PROBLEM. 

  Lastly, there will NOT be a young male revolt, he is beyond dramatic, and he’s probably posting this to vent his frustrations, to be able to relate to fellow losers online, and to scare maybe some women, or normal people online who don’t care about this topic. The same group of men who stay in their bedrooms all day, and have zero friendships or connections in society will not be the same men who will lead any sort of revolt. These are the same men who never go to the gym, and never train physically, they will not be the ones ready to fight ANYONE, let alone our military or national guard. Most likely, they would last like the fools at the January 6th rally in 2021.They wouldn’t last a day. 

[possiblyscrewed]

I went and found the original post in question, and I read all of the expectedly negative responses, so now I feel compelled to add this. 

I’ve found almost universally that any nonmedical person talking about a failure of our medical system chooses to blame that failure on either the malice or the incompetence of individual doctors.

Earlier today I was on instagram and came across a reel mocking of the idea of hospitals having a physician week the way they have nurses week, and I think I finally realized why this happens.

Historically, physicians have been the owner/employer class. It is ingrained in our cultural consciousness that doctors are in charge. They own practices, they hire (and abuse and exploit and underpay and undervalue, etc etc) nurses, they make their own schedules, they choose whether they are willing to be there for you as a patient. Why would you hold an appreciation week for your CEO?

Except that’s very much not the case anymore. Doctors are employees now. They’re cogs in the machine. They’re told what to do and how to do it and spend mandatory meetings learning how to meet their metrics and get emails every month telling whether if they did it fast enough and cheap enough, from someone who couldn’t tell you the first thing about why. 

As of 2023 a huge percentage of doctors - 77.6% - are employees of hospitals or corporations. I couldn’t find whether this number includes “independent contractors” like ER doctors, who are functionally employees. If it doesn’t, the number is even higher. And, because of how corporate medicine practices, I guarantee you these employee physicians account for an even higher percentage of patient encounters. 

Since we’re almost 6 months into 2024, it has also almost certainly already gone up. This is not a casual shift. It’s an active corporate takeover. In 2018, that percentage was 47.4. Corporations and hospitals bought up 30% of private practice physicians in the past 6 years.

I’ve seen a lot of people mock the idea that working in medicine can be akin to a customer service job. But when such a majority of doctors are employees, it absolutely is. And much like blaming your waitress for being slow when the restaurant is understaffed, these corporations are counting on you blaming the doctor. If they demand your doctor perform an impossible amount of work caring for an impossible number of patients and you walk away thinking “my doctor just sucks” you’ve fallen for their grift. 

I’m not saying this system doesn’t produce bad care, or that you shouldn’t be mad about receiving it. Quite the opposite. It provides horrible care! You should be mad!

But we have to be mad at the system which has deprived you of the quality care that your doctor wanted to give you. We can’t be so mad at the individual doctors. Even the ones who are so burnt out they aren’t trying anymore. Not because they should be allowed to be horrible, but because treating a symptom does not cure the disease.

I don’t know what the solution is here. I look at our healthcare system and I fear for our future. But I do know that blaming the corporations instead of the individuals and supporting doctors the way you would support any other exploited worker is a step in the right direction.

Got reblogged by Seanan McGuire again; can safely assume my notes will be a nightmare of people accusing me of being a lazy, incompetent, distracted, inhumane doctor, assuming they notice I’m a doctor. May take a week off.

People will simultaneously describe all the elements of the current US medical system that lead to burnout in service of making the very few shareholders very rich, and then pretend that doctors aren’t also profoundly negatively affected by it, and then decide the system is also actually our fault.

[friendlyfaded]

I’ve got Aaron/Darlin’ brainrot and I’m making it y’all’s problem

Rest assured, I’m still working on another WIP! No spoilers on what it is, tho 😉 This was just in my head and I had to get it written. Here y’all go!

CW: none, except me projecting hardcore onto Aaron about my frustrations regarding bureaucracy and exploitation in large workplaces

It had been a very rough day. Every single time he went into that damned office, Aaron was bombarded with bullshit that he shouldn’t have to be dealing with. There was always something. Either it was a problem that fell under the jurisdiction of another department (the wonderful IT department came to mind) or it was something way above his paygrade being shoved off onto him by some uncaring superior.

“Just tell them no,” Darlin’ said, shrugging as if it were really that simple. Aaron stared at them for a moment.

“I… I can’t do that,” he replied. “I would actually lose my job.”

“Ha, they wouldn’t fire you, not if they have any kind of critical thought going on in their empty heads. Although I guess it’s not a stretch to assume they don’t, considering they treat one of their most hardworking employees like shit.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Doll, if they fire you, who’s going to put in all the effort and work that you do?” Darlin’ asked. Aaron went to argue, but then paused. It was a valid question. “The way I see it, there’s two things that could happen. One, you put your foot down and demand they pay you for all the extra work you’re doing. You stop taking work home, you only do what’s required of you until they decide to pay for additional work. Or two, they fire you, you come work admin at Shaw, you get paid better for less exploitative work, and we watch the company flounder and regret ever considering letting a hard worker like you go as they struggle to pick up the insane amount of slack.”

“You think they’d hire an unempowered human at Shaw?”

“Why not? Angel does freelance web design for us, and they’re unempowered. Besides, while Miguel is learning how to do admin shit, we really could use someone who has actual experience and skill with client negotiations and organization on board as well. I could bring your resume to David. He already likes you, knows how hard of a worker you are. I only complain about it every pack meeting you can’t come to.”

“And what are you doing complaining about me?” Aaron asked teasingly. Darlin chuckled, rolling their eyes and pulling Aaron into their lap. They nuzzled their face into his neck.

“Positive complaining, I swear,” they clarified. “Kind of like, ‘he’s always working too hard, he puts so much of himself into that fucking company and they don’t even appreciate him, they take advantage of him.’ Now that I think about it, I’m more complaining about Vesta.”

“So… what, I should bring some kind of ultimatum to my higher-ups?”

“I would.”

“I don’t want to leave Vesta, you know. I want to try to make some positive changes, help them improve.” Darlin’ sighed, squeezing Aaron tighter.

“I know, Doll, but unfortunately, you can only make change if the people above you don’t have a stranglehold on the company,” they murmured. “This job stresses you out, severely. It’s draining you, and they still treat you like shit. It’s unhealthy.” Aaron leaned into the warm shifter holding him, considering their words. He hated that he was worrying his partner. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He also knew that he hadn’t had much time for them lately, and while they would never say it, he knew they were getting kind of lonely. Truth be told, so was he. It was hard, spending almost all day stuck in that shitty office, doing work he wasn’t even being paid to do while also scrambling to finish what he was assigned, all to be brushed off by upper management and HR for his concerns regarding other departments.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew how large corporations like this worked. As long as someone was doing the work, upper management didn’t care who was doing it. If Aaron was picking up the slack that IT was leaving, and he would continue to do it, they would see no reason to throw a wrench in that and potentially risk the level of productivity they’d been getting. It didn’t matter to them that one employee (or really several, as Aaron’s team was drowning at this point) was being exploited. His partner was right. If he had another, better job lined up, he shouldn’t stay at a shitty job.

He had been taught his whole life that hard work would be rewarded. It would be recognized and appreciated by a good employer. He would be able to make positive change if he stuck with it and kept up his work ethic. Obviously, that wasn’t the case at Vesta. Darlin’ had a point. From what they’d told him, David was a great employer, fair, considerate, and invested in the lives of his employees. Of course, that might also have to do with the fact that, in Darlin’s words, ‘the pack is family. We’re not just employees.’ They’d told Aaron several times now that he was also pack, shifter or not. David was a good man. He’d be a good employer, too.

“If,” Aaron said, stressing the word, “and I mean if, David looks over my resume and gives me an interview, and if he’d be willing to hire me on, not out of nepotism but out of recognition for my qualifications, I would bring an ultimatum to Vesta.”

“And take the better offer?” Darlin’ asked. Aaron could feel their smile against his shoulder, could hear it in the tone of their voice. Aaron huffed good-naturedly.

“Yes, you menace,” he replied, leaning his head against theirs.

“I should mention, considering this is a family business that only really hires within the pack, which includes you, don’t even start with me, nepotism is kind of necessary. But, David wouldn’t hire you if you weren’t a good pick. I’ll bring him your resume and explain the situation when I go in tomorrow.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Aaron chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to their temple. Darlin’ turned their head and kissed his lips.

“Hi pot, name’s kettle,” Darlin’ shot back, and Aaron’s heart swelled with affection at the genuine happiness he saw in their eyes. “Seriously, though, thank you. I hate seeing how miserable this job makes you, and I know how hard it is to seek change.” They paused for a moment, considering. “I will need some information from you, though.”

“Such as?”

“How much are you making at Vesta? How much overtime? What are your benefits? Leave? Insurance?”

“Why do you need all that?”

“So I can tell David, and he can make a better offer.”

“Darlin’—"

[libraford]

I owe you all a story about kittens. But its about... a little more than kittens. It's a long one.

I want to tell you all about the kittens, which took place in 2019. But in order to do so, I have to take you back even further, to March of 2018, and concludes in 2021. Because it's about kittens, but it's also about business and all the things that can go wrong.

In March 2018, tragedy struck. The owner of the flower shop died unexpectedly, leaving the business to four capable managers. One of those managers was the man that had hired me, leaving a power vacuum at our location. Grandpa was not the first choice to take the lead, but she stepped up and she became manager. In my opinion, there was no better person for the role: she had only ever worked in the flower industry (assuming we're not counting the one week in 1976 when she worked at a pizza parlor,) and as such she knew the business inside and out.

Prior to this, she had taught all of the designers and practically ran the place when the boss was out, so it was the next logical step. And it was good.

Of course, we had our ups and downs. What I did not realize when I joined the flower shop is that the flower industry is volatile- there are so many variables that went into the creation of floral pieces and if there is one misstep you can be set back anywhere from a day to several thousand dollars. There are late deliveries, there are frightening brides, there are missing piñatas… van fires, flower snobs, color corrections, failed psychics, friends, enemies…

You can set the bar so very low and yet…

The rise and fall of drama at this particular flower shop could be dictated into hours and minutes because sometimes you need to hire people just to fill that space. Grandpa was on record by saying 'if they can walk, talk, and spell their name, hire them.' Even so, we were critically understaffed most of the time because if you hire anyone you're going to get a lot of quitters.

It's a tough cycle to break, and our power was limited.

And we had bigger fish to fry: we had an average of thirty funerals, two weddings, and well over six hundred deliveries per week. Business was booming and we just had to keep up- if you make it one week after the next it doesn't feel so bad.

By March of the following year, the four owners had whittled down to two: my former boss and the former webmaster. We had a district manager now, some kind of accounts position… things like that. It was kind of astonishing that before this, all the work had been done by a single man. But the secrets to his success had died with him.

Things were looking good, actually: the flower business was full of life! We were doing all kinds of special events, starting contracts with businesses and getting our name out there. Drama still plagued us, but as far as I'm aware, that's par for the course for flower shops.

Then, in May 2019, tragedy struck. A tornado ripped straight down the street of our headquarters, demolishing the greenhouse and the historical building that it all started in. No one was injured, but the damages were devastating. Despite all this, we kept working.

We worked hard. And hard. And hard.

And though the new warehouse wasn't slated to be finished until 2021, we reached an equilibrium where things were okay.

But before I get to that, I made a promise to you.

It was a hot day in August and I was walking into my closing shift at 10am. After two years of working with roughly the same people, you got to learning how to tell when something was happening. I walked in to everyone staring at me and acting 'natural.' It never looks natural.

In the back of the store, there was a box that Cherry was standing very purposely in front of.

"What's in the-"

"Sh!" Grandpa spied through the window in the cooler door as someone swung out with a purchase. "Did you find something you like," she asked the customer, trotting over to help him at the register.

"What's happening," I asked Blue.

"Nothings happening, it just kind of… happened."

"Blue… what does that MEAN?"

"There's a customer here, I can't talk about it."

I am bursting at the seams to know what's going on.

Grandpa fared the customer well and went back to her station behind the computer. "Open the box," she said.

Ominous, but okay. I go over to the box and Cherry steps aside. There's something moving inside the box and I wonder if Pam's daughter had folded herself into a box to ride out a panic attack again. I carefully opened the flaps of the box and accidentally disturbed the sleep of-

Four.

Tiny.

KITTENS!

Oh my god, it was the most adorable thing in the world and the poor things were screaming because they had only known the world for a few weeks and everything was strange and blurry and all they knew to do was cuddle for warmth and scream. The box consisted of two black kittens, one tuxedo kitten, and a white seal-point with terminal eye goop.

They immediately started climbing up my arm.

"Not that I'm not thrilled, but… why?"

"Stray cat left her babies out by my pond and wasn't just gonna leave the little fuckers," Grandpa said. The seal-point made it all the way up my shoulder to scream in my ear and stare at me with one clear blue eye. "That one's name is Pop-eye. He's my favorite."

"Jake doesn't get along with them," I surmised. Jake was Grandpa's Australian Shepherd. He was old, blind, deaf, and losing his sense of smell. And he was ornery.

"First thing he did was sit on Pop-eye. So they're gonna be at the shop during the day until we can get them all homed. Know anyone that needs a kitten?"

So, for awhile, we had shop cats. One of the all black twins had been claimed the very next day, but the rest of them were with us for some time. We got very good at feeding them all every hour on the hour and eventually they settled into accepting that 'mom' was seven different people.

In the meantime, we had to hide the three of them from visiting management.

This was not my first round with cat-related crimes.

The district manager, Puppet, was due to come for a visit any time that week. He was supposed to come once a month for a routine check in, and there were only ten days left in August. Likewise, we had to hide the kittens from the customers on the off chance that one of them was a secret shopper.

Backtracking once more to explain: the company had shelled out money to pay a third party to send secret shoppers to grade us on a rubric and also whatever they thought was appropriate. The grades were cleanliness, customer service, how knowledgeable we were of products, things like that. If we got above 90%, there would be a bonus in our next paycheck.

Sounds great, right?

The spies could decide that anything wasn't up to their standard. One woman went on and on about our 'black wall,' which was the outside of our cooler and I'm sorry but… that's not changing. There was a complaint that the table at the front used to showcase our bridal seemed out of place and odd. There dirt in the flower pots… where dirt goes. Corporate reads those comments.

So keeping the children out of sight of the customers and any visiting management became our priority.

'So just keep them in the break room,' I hear you, the reader, suggest.

If you've never owned cats, it is imperative for you to know that they are mostly comprised of spine, and only the smallest of openings will deter them from squeezing into parts unknown. Cats are semi-solids. Kittens are semi-solids with a sense of adventure and little tiny needles for fingernails.

And you can't just tape the box shut.

So… they got out. Well, two of them got out. The tuxedo awoke to find that her brothers had gone exploring without her and did the sensible thing, which was cry about it.

Mood.

I have named this cat Brood X Cicada. The black one can be named Abyss. I'm great at naming cats.

Lucky for us, they're only a few weeks old and walk kind of like little tin soldiers. It took all of five minutes to pry Pop-eye from a piece of Styrofoam and locate Abyss exploring an old toolbox. However, by the time I'm done cat collecting, Brood X Cicada had toddled off in search of her brothers and I'm out of hands to hold kittens in. I stuffed Abyss into my apron pocket and tried to save X from eating plastic.

It is at this moment that Cherry came in to tell me that Puppet the District Manager was on his way, and saw that I was helplessly juggling kittens. Abyss was climbing out of my pocket, eager to join his siblings in the high and exalted position that was my hands.

"We need these kittens out of here," I said. "Who hasn't been on lunch yet?"

Cherry dodged her head back into the workshop. "Hey Key, you been on lunch?" Pause. "You wanna go now?"

Key came into the back room and I handed her the box of kittens. "Take these, in your car. Go to burger King or something, I don't care. Puppet cannot see these. If anyone asks, you're on a route."

Key held the box and took a moment to appreciate the series of events that lead to her being handed a box of kittens in a 'Take this, don't ask questions' kind of matter.

Puppet was in the front door as Key was out the back and we successfully avoided a serious mistake. His visit was only an hour and she walked back in without anyone the wiser.

We made it through the big challenge, now to continue looking for homes for them. Ms. Crow found a friend of a friend of a friend that was excited to take Abyss from us. After some interrogating my friends, I found someone who knew someone who could take Pop-eye and Brood X Cicada. (They were renamed Hocus and Pocus.)

Grandpa cried for every single one of them that had to go. And I remembered my very first day of working there when she introduced herself as 'The Tinman.' What a liar, the softy.

Our days went on kitten-free, the management none the wiser.

It was December when I got the feeling that I should be taking photos of my work to build a portfolio. Something wasn't right, I felt. I couldn't say what it was that put me on edge, but I could only say that all was not well. I took photos of everything that I was proud of, and I was proud of a lot of things. By February, I had over fifty items that I could show off to a potential studio. And I thought- in March, I should start looking to see if other shops are hiring.

And in March 2020, tragedy struck. Our state went into lockdown on March 13, dictating that all non-essential businesses close and non-essential staff be laid off. There were two days where none of us knew what was happening, if we had jobs or if that job was safe.

They laid off all but three designers and Grandpa but kept most the drivers, changed our hours to 8-5, closed Sundays. Canceled weddings. No walk-ins. The three designers were Blue, Red, and me.

Blue was worried about her children. She resigned.

Red's wife was worried about him and harassed him into quitting.

And then there was one.

There's a series of poems I wrote in my journal about being an essential worker during lockdown. There's adorable little doodles of skeletons around the margins, festooned with flowers. They all go something like this:

We are the Skeleton Crew.

We once were seven but now are two

We don't know what to do

So we just work, work, work.

Many may wonder how a flower shop would be considered an essential business. The answer is funerals. We were allowed to remain open because of our relationship with the funeral industry. And sad to say: the industry was booming.

And I did all of it. I made every spray, every 'get well soon' vase, every 'happy quarantine' bouquet. I called angry brides to see if they could postpone, I dealt with everyone's grief and uncertainty.

All the flowers that arrived at US Customs through Italy were destroyed because we didn't know whether coronavirus was transmitted through physical contact and there's no way to sanitize flowers. Not without killing them.

It was me and Grandpa. That was it. Ten funerals a day, and everything else. Flowers were more important than ever: you couldn't be there, so you sent flowers. And flowers and flowers and flowers…

I couldn't leave now. I was important, I was needed.

The work became overwhelming for both of us and we began hiring back some of our staff. Some came back right away, bored out of their skulls having to spend time at home. Can't relate. Key never responded, Cherry was pregnant and shouldn't be out of the house.

Dandy came back, Kali came back, Astra came back. Eventually, Blue. After a month of just me and Grandpa, there was almost a full crew and it was enough for us to get through an average week. It took us a month on our bare knuckles but we finally weren't shouldering the responsibility of seven people.

But we still didn't know jack shit about the future there.

In May, the 'economy opened up,' which is a strategic way of saying that people got tired of never leaving the house and stores were pressured to open back up again before a vaccine was released under threat of… you know what? This isn't a story about how America responded to the coronavirus poorly and you can probably find a better thinkpiece about it written by someone with facts and feelings if you want to squeeze yourself behind a pay wall.

This is about workers rights and kittens, two things that are far more important than the economy.

We got 'Hero Pay,' which was two dollars extra per hour and damn did I grasp onto that with the tendons in my wrists. I had never been paid $12 an hour for anything in my life. They started talking about permanent raises, and benefits, 401K, pregnancy leave… and I started thinking… maybe I could stay. Maybe I can stay here for awhile and it won't be so bad now that I'm getting paid actual human wages. Maybe it will be okay.

Life returned to an uneasy normal while we navigated mask laws, sanitation regulations, safety screens, and daily temperature checks. There are stories to tell about some less than great customers we'd had as people realized that they weren't coping with the pandemic as well as they thought, but they deserve their own entries.

We had a revolving door of open positions. If it wasn't a designer it was a driver or both. People weren't ready to come back to work yet but we still had a business to run. People asked if they could perform this job remotely. I'm not sure how one does flowers from home.

It was August when we started feeling the roots of our problems seep into the foundation.

Grandpa's pride and joy was her funerals. She had spent thirteen years building a relationship with the funeral homes in the area to make sure they trust us and our work. If anything was wrong, even a hair out of place, they knew they could call us and have it fixed before the visitation.

"We want unity across the board on our products," Puppet said. "If you're doing the sprays one way and others don't look the same, it doesn't look very good for Oldman Funeral Home, which has locations in all our cities, does it?" He swept his bangs out of his eyes, which was strange tell but we weren't sure for what.

"Okay," Grandpa said. "Schedule a time for me to go down and I'll teach them the way we do them."

"Okay, then."

She went down, prepared to show the crew in the warehouse what 40 years in the business was capable of, only to be met with a strange kind of resistance.

Their head designer greeted her and immediately started instructing her on how he makes sprays. Grandpa, confused, blinked at him with no words. When he was finished, she picked up her clippers and began making her own.

"That's not how we do it," he said. She was met with criticism after criticism. "That's not enough flowers, you're putting them in wrong, you're still making it one-sided. Why did you put the bow there, this looks nothing like our products."

She stood back after his barrage of blows to the ego. "I guess I'm a little confused."

"I'll say."

"Am I teaching you or are you teaching me?"

"I'm teaching you," he said. "Since they're going to all be made here from now on, they want me to show you how we make them in case of emergency."

She let that simmer. "That's not what I was told."

"You didn't think you were supposed to show me how you do it, did you? That doesn't make any sense. Why would we want to look like yours?"

"Oh, I dunno… maybe because we've kept up 30 accounts for 13 years and your location just lost your very last one because you can't make their delivery times and they're across the damn street."

This was how we learned that corporate was planning on taking our funerals from us.

Funerals were something I was immensely proud of. My ability to turn out a thousand dollar funeral order with limited stock was a subject of envy. I could take a phone order, make the flowers, and the deliver it all by myself within an hour. I was good. We were all good. And we trained anyone that stayed longer than two months how to do this because we wanted every person to be able to fix any problem.

And they wanted to take that away from us.

And they did. Because who was going to stop them?

'But what does that matter to you,' I hear you, the reader, ask. 'Surely this meant less work for you!'

Ah, but for the sprays to get to us, they had to come on a truck. Making them in-house meant that we knew we had them. We had to put our trust in corporate to deliver the goods to us by 7 am or we would have to make them day of.

There were days when the truck didn't come, or where only half the pieces were delivered, or a spray got left in the workshop an hour away. At least once a week, often more.

But you know… we adapted. You just schedule more openers to make sure no one is doing it alone and hope to God that you have all the flowers you need to make it. Which you could never anticipate how many flowers you would actually need because them taking our funerals was supposed to reduce the amount of stock flowers we got as well.

Mornings were nightmares, but we adapted.

Another visit, Puppet told Grandpa that she should get all weekends off. All the other managers do. He suggested that I learn to run routes so she can have weekends, and I said okay. I'll learn it.

I got real acquainted with the map of Ohio, and I hated it. I was a weekend manager with no real managerial power. If someone needed a refund, I had to write a note for Grandpa to email the accounts manager because she wouldn't take requests from anyone that wasn't a manager. Everything just waited until Monday. What was the point of me? I couldn't design while managing and I couldn't fix what was broken, so why even have a weekend manager? Let the animals loose in the zoo and it probably would have been a better fit.

But I powered through. I adapted.

Throughout all this, spreadsheets. Spreadsheets, spreadsheets, spreadsheets. Completely pointless spreadsheets that we were bound to fill out all day every day. They had simple purposes: inventory. You filled one out to take count of the specials so you knew how many there were. Then you had to count again to put them in the system so that they knew how much we had. Then you had to go back and count them again and put that number in the computer so they knew how much to make and send tomorrow.

I spent an hour each day counting and recounting the flowers in the far-off and futile hope that the counts would remain accurate to the end of the day (which they did not because the call center consistently used the wrong codes) and that the stock would be replenished properly in the morning (it was not.)

An hour was lost each day to this and it accomplished nothing, yet they always yelled at Grandpa if the counts were off or it was late. Why stress a system that does jack shit?

And every time there was a new feature or there was a new… thing, oh look! Another goddamned redundant spreadsheet that served no purpose.

But we adapted. We created a rhythm.

Show up early at 6:30 to make sure everything got in, make everything that didn't, get the drivers routed, pull routes for the third party deliveries, process same-day orders, data entry for the funeral consolidated. Then at 7, when the phones start ringing…

Okay, so before I forget:

Instead of installing a new phone line and hiring a few more call center people like a normal company would, our headquarters decided it would save us money if call overflow rerouted to the next available phone line, regardless of which location the phone was at. So we would get calls for the Kentucky store asking questions about what that store has and for the sake of preserving confidence in our brand we were supposed to pretend that we were the Kentucky store. We're just supposed to know or assume to know what each store had in stock because there's no way that could ever backfire.

It was… another thing to yell at us for. And boy did they, because they were listening in on our calls. Not to like… coach us on how to do better, but to tell us we were wrong. Sometimes they would call one of us on the other line to tell someone currently on the main one that they said something wrong. They also would straight up lie and scold us for calls we didn't take. The phones system, was simply a mess.

...so when the phones started up at 7am, and one person is designing, one person is taking unending phone orders, Grandpa is doing damage control. By 8, we have most of last nights orders figured out and it's time to start on same day orders and tomorrow's orders. It's too early to do inventory now because they'll yell at us for doing it too early.

By 9 we have our second wave of same day orders and next day orders, the rest of the world realizes we're open and starts walking in. That requires the attention of an entire person. We're at this point also taking out trash, breaking down boxes, disinfecting, sweeping the cooler.

Typically, there were only two openers on any given day, which meant most of this was all being handled by Blue or me.

By 10 we've caught up, we can do the inventory now without getting yelled at by the four heads at corporate. We're on route #3 by now and someone probably had to go to the same place twice because the orders came in late.

At 11, a crisis has probably happened. Something dropped, something wilted, something wasn't what they imagined. Someone has to go fix it, and that someone was usually me because I knew my way around town better than the other transplants.

This typically returned me to the shop around 1pm, which meant it was time for lunch, bringing me to 2. 3 o'clock was the cutoff for any next day orders to be sent to corporate, which meant that if there were any funeral orders taken for the morning, they would have to be made in-house. This included sprays, which takes half an hour to an hour depending on how complicated it was and if we had the materials and how much else we needed to make for the next day. Or how busy we were.

There was always something called in at the last minute, taking us to 4 and then 5 o'clock, when the openers went home and the same-day orders were cut off.

But see, that was when we stopped taking orders, not when we stopped processing orders. So if an order was placed for the same day at 4:59, it may not go through until 5:30. And by 5:30, chances are you've sent your drivers home for the day. Which means calling the customer to apologize and explain why something can't be sent out today, and no one wants to hear that they fucked up by sending it out late.

So, on more than one occasion, I had to personally deliver flowers on my way home from work in my personal car, thirty minutes out of my way because if we miss a delivery by God will we hear about it. And it was always some damn $25 arrangement with 'God Loves You' written on the tag, hardly worth the gas to Johnstown.

The irony of it being delivered by the witch was lost on no one.

If that didn't happen and the screen was clear, the night was easy and all we had to do was clean up and watch the door.

Unless a last minute order for the next day came in, which was about half the time. All of this for $11 an hour. (Once they got rid of the Hero Pay, it went back down to $11.)

That was an average, unexciting day for us. You got used to those kinds of stresses, but every day I came home and I was so tired and sore that I couldn't move. I started walking with a cane, had a low-grade fever most days, and my hands looked like I'd taken to them with a cheese grater.

But I powered through. I adapted.

Then it was December. The owners had always been generous with Christmas bonuses, handing everyone an envelope of cash. Mine was $500. This was the largest amount of cash that anyone had ever handed me (feel bad for me later.)

And then it was Grandpa's turn, but there were no envelopes left. It had to be a mistake, she thought. She didn't get paid very much for all the work she put into the shop, so she was counting on that bonus to buy presents for her grandchildren. It… it… had to be a mistake, right?

"I didn't get a bonus," she said. "I thought the accountability didn't take effect until January," she said to Puppet.

Before he opens his mouth again, I have to explain yet another thing.

In September, there was a meeting. Now that we were working on benefits and bonus programs and other things to make sure the staff stays, they needed to put in accountability measures for the managers. Effective January 1, managers are reflected by the income of their store, the number of returns, accidents in company vehicles, and high turnover rates.

Pick one of those attributes and decide its bullshit to begin with, and I'm about to show you the entire steer.

"We had to make an example of someone," he said. "So that the other managers know we're serious."

She was being personally punished for a car wreck that happened in 2019 even though she fired the guy that was in it. We had too many returns, he said, but most of them were sent to us from corporate. She was personally held responsible for the high turnover rate during an economic crisis AND a goddamned pandemic… because they needed to make an example out of someone.

And her grandkids didn't get presents this year because of it.

She cried. The last time I saw her cry was when we were saying goodbye to the kittens. It's not the same.

But she got up every day and listened to them scream at her while we counted and counted and recounted the fucking Christmas specials because the numbers weren't right and we couldn't make them right because someone in the call center couldn't figure out the codes and in their eyes it was our fault, too- we had to be stealing the flowers or something.

"It sucks and then its over," she said. It was how she dealt with holidays: "It sucks and then its over."

We were all angry for her. I got asked to go to the headquarters and help them mass produce more fucking specials and I offered the beat them up for her and she told me not to get involved. Head down, do the work, get it done.

One of the call center girls died of a heart attack a few days before I was due to help them mass. We were supposed to go to her funeral, but we all missed it because there was so much work to do.

Wait, let me back up… again. The company gave us all life insurance. The number we were quoted on our life insurance policy was $10,000, which seems like a lot but in the funeral business it's not. Your average funeral will eat up most of that, if not all. It's very expensive to die right now.

At least… we all thought it was $10k. I was certainly told $10k.

Turns out it was $1k, which isn't enough to buy you a box for your remains. The call center crew ended up crowdsourcing the rest- she didn't have much family.

And none of us could go to the funeral because we were working.

I worked two twelve hour shifts in that warehouse making the same goddamn centerpiece over and over again while a Frenchman in a scarf told me I was doing it wrong, while everyone was grieving on a time crunch.

I really should have beaten them up.

But we got through Christmas, for what it was worth. We found Grandpa some sales that she could get gifts from and we all worked together to make sure we were okay through it. I mean, we weren't- it was blind leading the blind. But we tried.

And then it ended. "It sucks and then its over," she'd always say.

And into January we go and we're back into the stupidity of trying to fight with hq about funerals. I'm constantly told that if we needed certain things we should have ordered them.

I… did. I did. I ordered everything we needed every damn day and it still never came because the left hand and the right hand can't even coordinate enough to pull off a high-five. But it can't be their fault. It has to be Grandpa's somehow.

Now during the week of Christmas, Grandpa had to take an extra day off because she got sick. It wasn't Covid, thank goodness. I can imagine it was a stress-related issue, but it's not my business. Due to the holiday, this put her at under 40 hours for the week.

So they paid her hourly.

...which is extremely illegal to do to a salaried employee, especially one that works way more than 40 hours a week with no overtime.

And then they told her that she'd already lost her quarterly bonus because of a fender-bender that happened on my watch, and because she lost 39 employees last quarter.

I write everything down. I keep a journal. I cannot find 39 employees, even going back the entire year… during a pandemic. They have to be making this up. They have to be because there is no way they can hold the dude that was fired for literally sleeping in the men's room against her.

And I was close to just telling them all that… when my grandma died.

I'm not getting into it, really. Because you know… she was 96 years old and… it happens. It's sad, but it happens. But the relevant point to make is that I was given an… inheritance. It wasn't a lot. Grandma wasn't loaded. But it would be enough for me to keep afloat for awhile if I ever needed to.

When I told my girlfriend, she said: 'you could quit your job.'

And I didn't want to think about that because the flower shop needed me. I was important there. I was special. And Valentine’s Day was just around the corner.

But I was thinking about it. I thought about it every day.

A week before Valentines Day, Grandpa was inconsolable. She had to leave work because her dog, Jake, wouldn't stop bleeding. She needed to get him to the vet.

Two hours pass and Blue gets a message asking her to come help her move the dog. Grandpa lives alone and she's not very strong.

Blue doesn't like dogs. She was bitten by one the first time she ever made a delivery.

And I am known for exceptional physical strength. So I went.

When I arrived, Grandpa was a mess. I had never seen her cry so much, and it wouldn't stop. And I was trying to be strong, but it's hard. Jake was still alive, but bleeding. He was confused and upset, and blind and deaf. He barked, he growled, and he lunged… but always pulled back when his legs buckled from the pain.

I had her grab a blanket and we rolled him onto it, using that to lift him. He thrashed and growled and snapped at me while we walked him towards the door, but he wasn't getting out of the wrap we had him in.

As we're out the door, I noticed a man at the neighboring house. He raised his hand in greeting, but lowered it in confusion.

"Grandpa, is it alright if I get him to come help while you bring the car around?"

The best she could do was nod.

"Yeah, sorry, to bug you but can I ask for a little help here?" He looks at what we're doing and drops his trash can lid to come help. "Yeah, just take that end there and we're gonna ease him into the car when she comes around."

He nodded, took the ends, and we tucked a very confused Jake into the back seat. I thanked the neighbor, Grandpa sped off, and I went back to work feeling extremely odd about it.

That was the first time that I'd ever met the dog: on his way to be put down.

I know it seems weird to tell that story, but there's a reason. Part of it is symbolic. Part of it has to do with kittens. But we're not there just yet.

So now it's February and it is crunch time for Valentine’s Day. We have no earthly idea what this holiday is going to look like because past experiences have us anticipating a large number of walk ins, but state regulations have put a limit of six customers inside the store at any one time. We were never given any… instructions on how to enforce that rule, so we just kind of vaguely set out roles for who has to be the bouncer at the flower shop.

But before all of that, we had to make 275 two-dozen red rose arrangements in bowls. Based on our sales last year and general growth, we were expecting something close to five hundred deliveries on our busiest day. If I wasn't making them, I was counting them. And I was counting, and I was counting, and I was counting… every hour, just like it was at Christmas. We used up every single red rose in the place and came up short.

To which we were scolded: we must have used the roses they sent us for other orders because there was no way the error could have been on their end! Their inventory was impervious to mistakes. Somewhere between the warehouse and our store, twenty-five packs of roses went missing! And why is it only our store that has these problems? Clearly it must be our fault- a store full of thieves and liars and delinquents.

They ended up sending more just because… you know… they care. I guess.

And every hour, they needed a number of something and I counted, and counted and counted…

I think it was February 8 that I started crying every day. When I slept I was stiff as a board because I made so many mistakes throughout the day that the idea of coming to work the next day just to make more mistakes made me lock up entirely. There was no way to relax. There was no winding down from a hard day of work because my body could not move anymore.

I felt like I was made of splintering wood.

I had a dream around this time that I quit my job. I was so happy. I thought about it almost every hour.

So I stayed out of the way at work, picking up cleaning projects because at least there I could be useful and it was dark enough in the cooler that if I started crying no one had to see it.

That cooler was so clean. I wouldn't recommend eating off of it because I used an entire bottle of bleach to clean the floor.

If we're not counting the constant barrage of demands from corporate to count, count, count; Valentine’s Day was worryingly uneventful. Previous holidays were chaotic: filling the requests of the most desperate and clueless men with deep pockets and expensive tastes. Corralling the temporary drivers and make sure no one gets into any crashes or… uh...tries to sell unregulated merchandise from their trunks. Trying to decide what "Malibu Barbie Pink" meant for that one customer who comes in every six months and orders it but has rejected every color pink on the spectrum that our store has ever offered.

On this one… nothing important happened.

We were… slow.

Grandpa started sending people home early because there weren't many orders. We ran out of projects to do.

Sounds great, right?

...heh…

Corporate would like to know why our store is under projected sales by over 200, as if we have any say in how many people buy from us. Like we personally called all our typical customer base and told them not to come to this store. "Yes, hello Mrs. Penderghast? I'm sorry we can't fill your Valentine's Day order this year because we suck balls and don't want your business. Have a nice weekend. Say hi to the grandkids for me."

I don't… fucking KNOW! I don't work in PR! I'd ask the people in that department if they know what happened but… that's the owners. So who really is the fuckup here? Not me, that's for fucking certain! I cleaned the cooler. That's all I did all weekend was clean the Gods damned cooler because there wasn't enough work to go around so I made work for myself.

And then: "Why are the counts off," asked Mt. Rushmore. See, we called them that because between the owners, Puppet, and the head designer we had four white men looking down at us while we did all the work and built their success on the backs of their forefathers. Well… to me it was anyway. To everyone else it was four dudes that looked down on you.

"Why are the counts off?"

Oh, the COUNTS are off? Well, let me just drop everything I'm doing right now and count them for the third time in the past hour because that takes fucking priority.

"There's 95 specials missing from your inventory. Where are they?"

...okay, 95 is a lot. But it was also kind of hard to know how they were 'missing' when we'd sold all of the 275 that we made. How can they be missing if we sold them.

"We need to know where they are."

We don't know where they are. Because we sold all of them. The math didn't add up.

But they hounded us about it like we'd stolen them and resold them on the street corner. Which, to their defense, had happened once (but Sugar stopped doing that when her corner was taken over by the woman who accused Jay of being a demon.) But 95 is a huge number, and these arrangements were a foot wide and two feet tall. Someone would have noticed if a 100x200 foot square opened up in the cooler.

We literally could not know what the fuck they were talking about.

And the truth was extremely stupid: those 95 pieces were redeliveries. When someone has an issue with their order, like it didn't come or it was left out in the snow and got damaged or… someone put the name of their ex on the card instead of their wife… we send a replacement. But depending on who took the phone call, a person might use the wrong code and put it in for 'redeliver' instead- which counts it as another order.

We weren't missing 95 arrangements. We had 95 redeliveries. They hounded us about inventory for two days over a clerical error.

I decided I'd had it. We were going on a full week of crying every time I had a moment alone. They had made us feel like everything that went wrong was our fault: from low turnout to high turnover, missed deliveries and trashed sprays, lost accounts and new grievances…

But did they ever say a Gods damned thing about how hard we worked? How good we were? About how great a team we were under pressure? We once pulled together an entire wedding in fifteen minutes. My ass carried this store through the pandemic. I have done… so much.

So fucking much.

And yet it's our fault.

I had been reasoning with myself that I would stick around for the aftermath when Grandpa was eventually fired: we'd all felt it was coming. But I got that little bit of cash and all my joints were screaming and every time we got negative feedback a part of me died.

The following Tuesday had seen a massive snowstorm. Things that weren't already closed due to the pandemic were closed due to weather.

But we still had to be there. Because someone had to be there to make all the funeral pieces.

Because there wouldn't be a truck the next day, which meant that all of the funeral pieces that we'd sent to the headquarters needed to be made in-house. Which, once again, could have been avoided if we had kept the funeral orders in-house to begin with.

I waited until everyone had cleared out before I said it.

"Grandpa, I have to quit."

I don't think anyone ever looked so disappointed in me in my life.

"Why?"

"The way they treat people here is terrible and I can't see myself doing another Mother's Day for this company. They're so… mean! And for no damn reason! I have cried every day for the past week because I see the way they treat you and I'm… I'm tired."

I thought she was going to cry, but she nodded. "I can't stop you," she said. "I shouldn't stop you. If it's affecting your mental health like this, I'll miss you but its for the best. You know they'll want a written notice."

"And you know I'll tell them the truth," I said.

"...it's not me, is it?"

"If I worked for just you and those fuckers were out of the picture, I would stay. And you can count on me to tell them that."

"Any flower shop you apply to would be lucky to have you."

So I drafted up a resignation letter telling them exactly how I feel: that the way they run this company was asinine and they treated their employees like garbage. They received it on Thursday. Everyone at the shop knew by then. They were upset…

...but they understood.

Puppet did not understand. He emailed Grandpa asking her what she's doing that her people keep leaving.

He didn't see it. He didn't see that he was part of the problem. It always had to be someone else's fault. I explicitly said in my letter whose fault it was and he still didn't take any responsibility.

But suddenly I'm one of their best designers, and he begged me to reconsider, take some time off to think about it. They desperately wanted me to stay and they were willing to bargain, I just needed demands.

No one's ever… begged me before. I don't know if I like that.

This is when it dawned on me that I was next in line. It all made sense now: training me to route, making me do all the extra work, and now they want me to stay?

They were planning on getting rid of Grandpa and promoting me to manager. In a perfect world where Grandpa resigns willingly and I’m promoted on my merits as a designer and the company wasn’t very quickly circling the drain, I would be excited. But I wasn’t. I was frightened. I watched them take a confident, extremely talented woman and turn her into the whipping boy of the flower shop. And if I were in her position, I would have quit. But I don’t have the strength to stand up to the people that are signing my paycheck.

Why… am I at a place where the idea of moving upward makes me more scared than excited?

Flattering, but no. I've seen how you treat your people. My demands are to treat them better.

It was the longest week for me: making lists of pros and cons. I had made a lot of friends there and there's stuff that I will never forget. But the fact that the only people who didn't understand why I was leaving were the people who had the most to lose really hit me in the knees. I could tell them every day for the rest of their lives why they suck and it wouldn't matter because nothing was ever their fault.

And at 7:00 on Friday, I turned in my key.

I didn't have a plan, I didn't have anything lined up. This was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make and I was just kind of… throwing myself at it.

I don't do that. I always have a plan. I look into every possible scenario and I try to make the smart choice. And this time…

I didn't.

It was probably stupid.

But I slept for 12 hours the next night and I could feel my bones settling into their rightful places. I didn't realize how many health problems were caused by standing for 9 hours a day, 11 days a week until I was home all the time to notice them changing. I will always have a limp from trying to pretend I don't have a limp. I'm pretty sure that ulcer is chronic. But my back isn't seizing up and I don't cry every day anymore.

That's something, I think.

About a week after my departure, I got a text from Grandpa that said:

"Hey guess what."

"What," I replied.

The next text was a picture of a week's old seal-point kitten with terminal eye-goo, wrapped in a towel.

"Pop-eye!?"

"I'm keeping this one," she said. The strays had dropped a litter of identical baby kittens by her pond. Two years later, with Jake put down, she could finally have Pop-eye, even if it was version 2.0.

The next text was a few days later. "Puppet fired me."

"What!? Why?"

"Too many accidents, too high turnaround. The new people suck, he says no one wants to work with me."

"Are you okay? How are you doing?"

"I'm okay." She paused and the loading screen did its little dot dance. "I'm playing with my kitten."