#until i can get a job and pay someone

[dubioushonour]

Truly I have the upmost respect for people who have an idea for something and can stick with it, because my brain is always on a loop of *thinking about story stuff* *thinking about DIFFERENT story stuff* *thinking about DIFFERENT story stuff* *thinking about DIFFERENT story stuff* *thinking about DIFFERENT story stuff*

[naamahdarling]

Have another concerning issue and now we NEED an electrician to come check on things.

I don't even have a credit card. We don't own the house so no loans, and assistance is not available through charitable orgs, and it is dad's second house technically, so he isn't able to access aid either. I live on under $1500 a month. There is no room for this.

I can maybe pay for a service call to come evaluate what is wrong. That's about it.

I'm so tired of this forced poverty shit. I can't save for anything. I'm not supposed to take charity even though there's no living on what I get and they know it. I can't get fucking married. But like a goddamn feral cat I also can't live without the trash they throw me.

If I die, dump half my corpse in front of the Social Security office and half in front of the SNAP office.

[funkle420]

god artists really do just pass around the same $20 bill cause dude over half my clients are other artists 😭 and usually they're the ones that tip well!! i just wish i could afford to also commission other artists and buy stuff from their shops!

[coldbrewnette]

Almost 3 in the am and I’m sitting in front of a magnifying mirror plucking my armpit hair cheers

[carcarrot]

well that was a shortlived good feeling about my job

[nomairuins]

anyways sry its not srs eventually ill get it together . and be a person again. one day

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[yohankang]

Honey, this might be very rude. But like what is your job. I want to save you from the that hell hole bro.

Please do not misunderstand nor feel pressured to answer.

I just hope it gets better.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

i'm an office manager which means that i'm responsible for all the paperwork (all invoices go through me), calls and emails. and i act like an assistant to basically everyone in our office. including shit like booking flights and hotels and taking care of everyone's cars and insurances etc. buying office supplies, taking care of how our office looks, making tea & coffee for guests, booking rooms, making sure our management signs the papers on time etc. etc. etc.

doesn't sound that bad but the 'acting like an assistant' is tricky. because i get like 20 daily requests from people to take care of something asap. like, paying a fine, calling some place to ask about something, scheduling a meeting, making changes in booking, registering a car etc.

now it's extra stressful bc i'm organizing a christmas party for 120+ people and it's not easy when you need to book hotels for 30 people, book a restaurant, decide on a menu, confirm attendance etc. and your guests are dickheads who don't care if you have to change their reservation 4 times in 3 days.

[bitegore]

i'm so grindset poisoned it is genuinely insane. i was justifying not paying for video games in 2011 (age 10) to my siblings by saying we should only spend money on non-necessities if it would bring us more money in the future. what's wrong with me

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

The worst thing about my brain being an autopilot grammar nazi is that every single time I see people misuse “it’s” and “its” as well as apostrophe placements is that I don’t want to be rude and correct people... but my brain still is like UGH THIS IS THE WORST.

“It’s” and “Its” are more just my brain going weeo weeo on me when that’s a more understandable one bc “its” is literally the exception to a rule (because “it’s” actually means “it is”, so to avoid it being used for two meanings the apostrophe is removed for ownership cases), but when I see apostrophes before an S for plural wording and I know they speak English properly I’m just like. ugh. damn. bruh. please. go back to school.

Less severe cases of incorrect apostrophe use tends to be like, when people are playing Heroes and have duplicates of units and are like “my Ike’s” instead of “my Ikes”, because I think people are trying to... make it more clear that it’s referring to more than one? I think? Maybe? Or they literally just don’t realize it’s incorrect grammar, idk lol. Still can’t get past my weeo weeo autopilot brain though sadly.

LIKE. IT’S NOT ANYONE’S FAULT THAT MY BRAIN IS WEEO WEEO, IT JUST IS.

Which speaking of Heroes, FE in general seems to have its script in every single game ever coded to always use apostrophes for ownership cases even when the word ends in S, so don’t worry folks. IntSys isn’t getting off scot free from my brain either LOL. No amount of “princess’s” is ever gonna fly with my weeo weeo brain.

this has been a psa

mainly a psa of my brain weeo weeos

[hummingbirdswords]

*drowning in research*

my little dream is starting to slowly become a reality. it's only been a week, but this is the longest I've ever stuck with a job idea that wasn't writing related. so it's starting to feel real and scary. but exciting? just wish life would stop, well, life-ing so I could focus more on this and less on worrying about the other stuff

[stirdrawsandreblaws]

was just told I'm only delaying the inevitable (covid infection) by being willing to work long hours for pennies online instead of working in-person retail for minimum wage bc it would pay more

not killing myself is also functionally delaying the inevitable (death) but there is value in that, isn't there? fuck.

[eats-the-stars]

pleased that my new workplace passed a test i have called: can i take off on this day I was scheduled to work?

answer was yes, which sounds like “of course they would say yes that day is like 2 weeks out” but the thing is, it was not immediately followed by “as long as you can find someone to cover your shift.”

however, this day IS part of the weekly shift I agreed to cover during the holiday season, so it is NOT part of my normal shift schedule, and technically qualifies as an extra day. so...this is just, like, test part 1. still happy my workplace passed, though

[fingertipsmp3]

No because my sense of direction is so bad I got lost in a small village school today

[sappho-of-suburbia]

eating a girl out for the first time? as someone with a couple of decades' experience (i started young, ok?), can i offer some advice?

take your time. your aim isn't to make her come as fast as possible, it's to make sure she enjoys every moment. slow down, revel in the process of finding out what she likes.

tell her how beautiful she is, how tempting her cunt looks, how intoxicating it smells, how sweet she tastes. she might be feeling vulnerable, especially if she's inexperienced too - it's your job to make her feel safe and adored.

enjoy the journey - i know you just want to feel your tongue on her clit NOW, but exploring her thighs, working your way slowly to her folds, trailing all the way up her cunt, drinking her juices, letting her feel your breath before she feels your touch...it'll be worth it. for both of you.

learn to read her body with all of your senses. she might be vocal but she might prefer to bite her lip or enjoy being gagged. you don't need to hear her words to know what to do. you'll feel her muscles twitch and relax - learn what it means when she lifts her hips, squirms or sinks into you. she might taste and smell differently when she is close to coming for you. pay close attention to her clit - if you're lucky and you've done a particularly good job, you might see it twitch as she recovers from the perfect orgasm. enjoy it.

you can be vocal though. moan into her. use every sensation you can. light flicks to determined, long, slow licks. blow gently on her wetness. how does she react to your lip piercing? your teeth?

build and add to the experience until she's completely overwhelmed. play with her nipples. run your nails over her skin. lift her legs and spank her.

chances are, she'll get to the point where she really needs you to fuck her. slip your tongue all the way down and inside her. if you can't breathe, you're doing it right. that means you probably won't be able to keep it up for hours, so save this move for when she's right on the edge and you're ready to let her tip over.

if you're especially lucky and she's a squirter, you will get absolutely soaked. enjoy it. show her you're enjoying it. moan into her cunt; she'll come even harder.

if she needs to be fucked harder, slip your fingers inside her cunt and curl them up towards your tongue as it circles her clit. all of her most sensitive nerves will be between your tongue and your fingers. you'll be able to feel every tiny twitch inside her; it's the most beautiful place in the world to be.

when she can truly take no more, stay close to her as you drift away from her cunt. kiss your way up her tummy and her chest, let her taste herself on your lips as you hold her and let her ride out the aftershocks. trail your fingertips over her back. whisper in her ear. tell her everything you loved about eating her out.

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was working at the sex shop I was pulling poverty wages. I loved my job but I was on food stamps and still barely getting by. When they hired the stores first male employee and he started at my pay rate after I’d been there for three years I quit.

I was initially really nervous when I saw the post for the mattress job. It listed a pay scale that I couldn’t even conceptualize and I appeared qualified. When I got an interview I was over the moon but also petrified. Reactions to my line of work often varied but most people were very embarrassed or skeptical. I worried about how I’d address it in the actual interview.

I lived far to the north of their headquarters and drove almost two hours to get there. When I finally arrived it was in the nicest thrift store clothes I could find, but I shrank inside to see a room full of older white men in nice suits waiting to be interviewed for the same job.

Why did I bother? I was decades younger than anyone else in the room, shabbily dressed, and I suspected I was the only afab person in the entire building. I stewed in my insecurities until I was called in.

The second I met my interviewer I was instantly put at ease. The man had the energy of a therapy dog, he was abound with positive, good natured energy. He was also incredibly beautiful. I grinned back at his welcoming smile as we said our pleasantries. But still. This very beautiful polished man seemed very innocent. How would the sex shop question go?

“I see here you worked at STORE?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

“And that was sales? Or you just rang people up.”

“No, it was sales. I’d help people find products, we were encouraged to upsell, there was sales spiffs, and most importantly we educated customers on products to help them find what they liked best.”

He grinned approvingly and asked, “Can you give me an example of a time you successfully upsold a customer?”

I paused, wringing my hands before I asked, “How vague would you like me to be…?”

“Not at all!” He assured me. “Go for it!”

“Well. A man came in looking for something to make his fingers vibrate so when he was touching his wife it would enhance that sensation. We had cheap $10 cockrings that I showed him first. But we had a rechargeable waterproof one made of nicer material, and after I showed him a demo he bought that one.”

“How much was that one?”

“$110”

“Wow! You had an upsell of 100% from what he came in looking for! That’s incredible!”

He was so truly genuinely stoked and not at all embarrassed that for the first time I saw a tiny glimmer of a future where I didn’t have ramen and peanut butter tiding me over between paychecks.

He asked me to wait then came back to tell me he liked me so much that he wanted to send me right into another interview, if that was okay. He didn’t want me to have to drive back later, it was terribly considerate and exciting. I beamed and told him it would be lovely.

I then had the second worst interview I’ve ever had. The worst goes to the time I applied to be a store manager for a pet food place years later. The district and store manager interviewing me passed notes and texted while I was speaking. When the district manager called to inform me I didn’t get the job I told him I’d never have accepted anyway because I’d never had such a disrespectful interview.

The new man sitting behind the desk radiated an aura of a brick wall. As someone with anxiety I’m highly keyed into the emotional states of people I’m talking to. To receive no feedback at all was my personal hell. After a perfunctory greeting he asked me with no inflection to sell him a pen.

I gathered the shreds of my courage and attempted the Herculean task he’d set me. Through my whole improvised spiel he resisted all attempts at engaging him, regarding me with a cold apathy as I touted the benefits of my fictitious pen.

Halfway through I broke into a cold sweat. My smile didn’t waver but it grew strained as I projected friendliness and warmth into the black hole of his heart. My thoughts scattered and my sales pitch grew redundant in the face of his nothingness. I finally concluded with a hard close and he simply nodded.

He glanced at my resume and commented, “You didn’t ask me to touch or hold it. Though I suppose I can understand from your previous line of work why you wouldn’t.” I shriveled and died inside knowing that I encouraged people to touch dildos all day long and had been too frazzled to offer him the pen.

He bid me a cool farewell. I made it to my car before I started sobbing. I had never been so rattled. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make him so unfriendly or if my threadbare clothes were what had made him treat me like dirt. I drove an hour and a half to get home, weeping intermittently.

I was therefore taken by complete surprise to receive a call the next day inviting me on board for their five week training program. The first man who’d interviewed me gushed on the phone about how the second guy had loved me and that I was going to be fantastic.

I was in shock. When I showed up to training the second interviewer was charming my new classmates, beaming and laughing. He was an utterly different person. To my dismay I learned he was the trainer for my district and would be my point of contact if I made it through training.

He joked with me later that his interview facade was just a tactic to see how people held up under pressure and I filed him into a category of my deepest enmity. I never forgave him for how small he made me feel that day, but I never showed him the depths of my fury.

I aced every test and went on to be valedictorian of the eight people who had survived the rigorous training process to earn a sales position. When I got my first paycheck I bought myself new clothes, the first non-thrifted things I’d owned in years.