#when I worked retail I had several co-workers

[dailymanners]

When entering any place of business, such as a store or restaurant, if a staff member greets you, then acknowledge them and greet them back.

Although for many jobs it's a required part of their job to greet you, especially retail workers, receptionists, and restaurant workers to name a few, that doesn't make it feel any less dehumanizing to say "Hello!" to another human being only for them to ignore you. Acknowledging staff members and greeting them back is important for acknowledging their humanity, they are, after all, a human being, and not an automated machine.

This is also important when going to check out at a store. If you approach the cash register, and the cashier greets you, you should acknowledge them and greet them back. Cashiers already have to deal with being dehumanized enough. The least you can do is help humanize them by acknowledging them when they greet you and speak to you.

[ambernim8]

Follow Me: a history

I have been avidly watching Korean dramas since the end of 2012. I immediately resonated with their captivating, often twisty and complex plotlines, and the emotional struggles of their characters. Oh, and the romance. Jane Austen style, slow burn, meet-cute, enemies-to-lovers, arranged marriages, fake marriages…THIS was what I was missing so badly in American media. Needless to say, once I started my kdrama love affair, I never quit. I mean, a famous actress meets who meets the love of her life, only to discover that he’s an alien from another planet that has been stranded on Earth for hundreds of years—who else is telling stories like this??  True love. Cheong Song Yi x Do Min Joon 5ever!

Flash forward to fall 2024, when I took my first creative writing class ever (an extremely generous gift of dear co-workers of mine who don’t want to see me working retail any longer…bless them!!). In order to write the prompts assigned to me, I needed characters to practice with…and I don’t know about you, but I can never think of characters without thinking up a story for them. I was stuck though. Nothing was coming to me. Then, laying on the couch, feeling the pressure of my upcoming prompt deadline, there came a whisper of an idea…a kdrama plot began to build in my head. I tell you nothing is more exciting than playing with a kdrama plot, the possibilities are endless! I could see all the scenes as if I were watching the Netflix trailer for it. I grabbed a notebook and wrote…and wrote…and wrote…

I used that first kdrama storyline and it’s cast of characters for the rest of that class and by the time it was over, I was sure of one thing: I wanted to write novels inspired by kdramas. It was like a someone had opened a flood gate for me. Prior to that creative writing class, I had largely pushed my dreams of being a published author to the back burner. Feeling like I had an original story to tell for the first time in years, and allowing myself to relish in that, I stopped telling myself wait and instead started saying why not?

Why not write the stories I want to read? The ones I personally reach for when I’m low on energy and motivation after a hard week. The ones that comfort me, make me laugh, make me excited. Why not write self-indulgent rom-coms like the ones I grew up with and now watch playing out in my favorite kdramas?

Sternly telling my fears and doubts to take a hike, in December 2024 I told myself I was going to write my first novel ever and post it to Wattpad to share with anyone who might enjoy it as a break from the pressures of life. Deciding the novel project I wanted to move forward with the most was a hard choice. As I said, several ideas had made their home in my head…and just as I thought I was going to pick that first storyline I used in my creative writing class, a new idea came into my head and took over.

That idea is now what I have titled: Follow Me. A kdrama inspired novel about following your heart. Ahn Soojin is a Korean American woman who finds herself engaged to a chaebol (wealthy heir). Soojin’s new fiancé—a man she’s never met—has the power to help save her from losing everything that matters most…if only she could stop her heart from choosing his younger brother. The heart wants what the heart wants <3

Romantic comedy is not a groundbreaking new genre, but if you’ve never seen how Korean dramas put their signature spin on it, I highly encourage you to give it a try! It is now easier than ever to watch kdramas with streaming giants like Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Hulu picking up a large number of popular titles. If you’re not sure where to start, here are my best recs for what's currently streaming per service:

Netflix

Crash Landing On You

Run On

Cinderella and the Four Knights

Hulu

The Legend of the Blue Sea

What's Wrong With Secretary Kim?

Crazy Love

Amazon Prime

No Gain, No Love

My Roommate is a Gumiho

Boys Over Flowers

Happy watching!

Later, lovelies! xoxo

ps: leave me a comment on your favorite kdrama of all time! Mine is a tie between Secret Garden & Crash Landing On You <3

[astramachina]

This question came to me in the shower and has been nagging me all morning: Mike and Cy. A song comes on while they're out in public. One of them loves it; for the other, it's like sandpaper in his earholes. What song is it, and who's having which reaction? (Sub-question: does Cy notice when an offensively bad song comes on the store's sound system or is he too distracted by The Horrors?) OK baiii~

jamie. jamie. i had a moment of just sitting here, bewildered, elated, relieved that Mike and Cy made a pit stop in someone else's brain for a change. and while in the shower too. i have no idea what's up with these two and their propensity to pop up while someone's in the shower (o7s in chat for their friends), but they're seriously going to need to change their modus operandi if they actually want me to put them to paper.

i knew instantly what song it would be, and then I had to verify that its release date matched up and lo! it did. eerily perfect timing for those trapped within the perpetual horrors of working retail in the early 80s.

there are two very different pictures here. one is of Mike, whose experience with music is severely limited courtesy of growing up in a Spanish speaking country. sure he's heard of Michael Jackson (who hasn't), but most of his daily tunes listenings are upbeat, tropical jams. which he loves, of course! all music is heaven sent to him.

but then he moves to the States, and his co-workers/friends start bombarding him with mix-tapes to get him up to speed. it's all well and good, he appreciates it, but the thing about working at the Mall, or any mall for that matter, is that you WILL be fed the same songs over and over. and over. especially during the night shift. gotta stay awake somehow.

then it happens. a very specific song that blasts through the UK charts then spreads to US radio stations like a contagion. it becomes a hit single for a top grossing movie and then suddenly there's no escape. the True Horrors are listening to Bonnie Tyler's Total Eclipse of the Heart on repeat for weeks at a time.

Mike surely doesn't mind it. in his version of events, that's the song that played when he first spotted Cy across the atrium, the scene playing in slow motion like a proper movie. in reality, it was stupidly crowded and he could barely hear what was playing.

Cy fucking hates it with a passion. and Cy's the kind of guy who will listen to anything as long as it helps drown out the mechanical droning of his bunkerhousing complex. he'll take the weird whispering inside his walls over whatever the fuck Tyler's singing about. he doesn't have a problem with ballads or even the song as a whole, but something about the lyrics makes him gnash his teeth.

it also doesn't help that manning the counter at the tech store is slow going which means, yes, he can and he has counted how many times the song has come on now. (at least five times per eight hour shift).

BUT. Cy likes Mike enough to recognize music as the easiest way for them to bond, and he's not entirely sure why Mike follows him around like a lost puppy when Paul and Dana (the other two of their mall crew) are right there and are way more interesting than him, but he appreciates Mike's honest attempt to be friends.

Cy also doesn't like the Beatles or anything from the 60s (long story) but Mike's neither here nor there on those so I'm not counting that.

[oswinstark]

Every single one of my co-workers at my “office job” started in retail

All of us have worked retail. I did Apple retail during the iPhone 3G launch which was an absolute fucking nightmare and then had to do clothing retail at Urban Outfitters.

We are also severely underpaid and overworked at our office job now. Luckily I don’t have to stand all day like I did when I worked retail so I feel very lucky in that (although my production friends in the office don’t have that luxury normally)

If you’re in retail, your enemy is not office workers who are also generally overworked and underpaid and have in fact worked restaurant and retail jobs, your enemy are the motherfuckers who buy their second yacht while their workers apply for food stamps

Class war not culture war.

[z-eel]

jobs the marauders (and co) would have if they were normal ass people pt. 2;

part 1 | part 3

Marlene is weird because I don't really see her working a normal job because she's just destined for great things. if anyone was to be famous, it would be her, (she'd most definitely be a youtuber) but if i had to choose something, a kid's soccer coach, she would have a coed team and a girls' team. and her girls' team definitely kicks ass. like those little girl adore Marlene. shes always build them up and giving that boost of confidence little girl tend to lose as they grow older. they become so good and confident that they would most likely beat the boys team, but you know how sports are. so Marlene moved mountains to get one match and that started a tradition where she would get couple of boys team to play against her girls in unofficial matches, winner get bragging rights. you know damn well her girls win, and Marlene never let anyone of the other coaches forget it. (in fact, someone recorded the matches and it goes viral (Marlene gave a beautifully inspiring speech after the game that constantly gets edited))

Mary worked as a waitress from 17 - 21, and she made good tips. she was charismatic and sweet. like she was the waitress that regular just loved to have. and she was absolutely beautiful. she was the girl who definitely looked to good to be working as a waitress (i full heartedly believe that shes been scouted for modeling but she genuinely beilved it was a scam (like no baby you're gorgeous and the world needs to see you). you never see Mary looking like she just woke up or having a bad day. she's always wearing her shiny lip gloss and her hair done. girlfriends/wife hate seeing her coming. you know she had several complaints about 'flirting' (and they dont leave a tip, those assholes) but it's fine because she always had another table that absolutely adored her (they're always so generous with their tips, karma ya know) she decided to leave when the wages weren't cutting it anymore. now she works in retail with Lily (Mary was her server on a slow day, and they talked for so long. they just clicked, and Mary just had to follow her (less puppy and more butterfly)).

Lily works in retail (but i need you to know its not out of necessity, she's just worked there for so long it feels wrong to leave) and has worked there for so long she now the manager, she's Mary's boss (and Mary's lowkey into that but she'll never admit it). in the beginning, Lily stuggled to get along with her coworker because she was always a little behind on doing things (she always did things by the book, never half ass anything). they thought she was a suck up and goody goody. Lily never complained and was always picking up shifts. she was also the one person you could count on to cover other people's shifts, and if she said no, it was probably because she was already working (at the time she need the money to pay for school (her sister had just gotten married and that where all her tuition money had gone 'accidentally')). weeks after Mary was hired (Lily trained her), Lily was given a managerial position, and she runs that store like a ship. i also need you to know that Lily and Mary need to be scheduled together (not only because they're the most competent worker but because their face cards are absolutely lethal). Mary who always charms people out of bad moods, and Lily, who's no bullshit attitude, makes even a grown man jump (the store in a high end boutique that receives a lot of people who buy gifts for the partners (easy to say she delt with an asshole or two))

Dorcas was actually a little hard to pinpoint because she could quite literally do anything. (like i fully believe she is a woman in stem and would be like a rocket scientist or mathematician), but like at the same time i see her a pa/secretary (you know what fuck it, she's also paying for school (she getting her phd in mathematics, argue with the wall)). like i can see her with a pencil skirt and the high heels that click on the floor when she walks. she also wears the thin framed glasses. oh and she would most definitely look at you over the glasses and judge the fuck out of you but it's okay because she's hot (you know she get constantly hit on so she mastered the face of complete disintret and disgust, men cry when she focus that look at them). like she would be the cold, sarcastic secretary that's mean to eveyone while eating a pasta salad. the only person she really gets along with is the new intern and she doesn't even see them often. (she works at the Potter company, and Marlene will definitely visit the office just to stare at her (she convinced James 'bleeding heart' Potter its true love, which allowed her access to stay in the lobby for an unreasonably long time). Dorcas just wants to clock out to go to the store across the street (they're having a sell, and she wants to see if Mary's working, she can always trust Mary's judgement when it comes to clothes).

think I just made a whole new universe... last part is going to the the remaining slytherins + Pandora

[forgeofideas]

I am a child who was raised into the faith. My mother has believed in the god of Abraham for several generations. By this, He is the god of my ancestors. My Father is the first convert in his family, he left behind his former faith at brutal crossing of the Mekong River. From the time I could read my father inundated my with biblical teachings. Each morning we would establish a firm foundation of the Christian faith in my life. The issue, however, was that although I grew in head knowledge I was lacking in love. I knew how to read the bible with my head, and not with my heart. There had always been apart of me that knew to treat others with kindness, but it would take me much longer to fathom the depths of what it meant to love one another. Upon growing older I learned to live my words of prayer, something always easier said than done. Even now I still find myself lavishing the Lord with my words, but failing to find Him with my actions. I have realized that the true mark of obedience to God is done by action, not that salvation is achieved by works. My mind was always filled with dogma, ideology and a yearn for knowledge. There is the practical and the ideological. What you think and what you do. In my years as a young adult I have tried to draw this out more and more. I have tried to live more rather than think more. I pray for his guidance everyday. Deprived social skills and lack of confidence are consequences of this. 

When I began to enter the workforce as a nursing assistant, there was a lack of care for training me. I had a very difficult time trying to get a hold of the work environment. For the longest time I was the youngest nursing assistant my facility had. My job required me to care for the elderly, so I stuck out like a sore thumb to both patients and adult co-workers. I eventually did get along with all of them, but the first year was a brutal process of integration. I didn’t work in high school either, so I was thrown into this environment during my freshman year of college with no experience. My tasks included bathing residents, feeding, dressing, physically transferring and cleaning them. Each nursing assistant was given the task of caring for nine to fifteen residents. Many of those I worked with had dementia and physical disabilities. In worse cases there were a few incidents where my patients had even gotten combative with me. Age does strange things to the mind. Keeping track of nine to fifteen patients is difficult enough when all of a sudden one dementia resident deicides to act out. I recall walking in retail places and seeing where all the other young people were. Places like Target, Walmart etc, and seeing them with such lax jobs filled me with envy. I had to deal with stress all day while other people my age would work simpler jobs. 

I did relish my time working with the elderly however. Many of them were from the WW2 era, lots of great stories. Even though some residents weren’t the best story tellers, I enjoyed hearing their experiences. It was life changing seeing human beings at the twilight of their existence. At the same time I was also babysitting my little cousins. They had to be around the ages of 2-3 at the time. Its ironic, really, babysitting toddlers and then going out to care for the elderly. When a child is dropped off at daycare they will cry and shout for their mother. “Where is mommy?” they will say? “When will she come to pick me up?” The child thinks the parent will be gone only for a few minutes after some convincing, but will eventually break out upon realizing they won’t be back for a few hours. Only decades later, a senile man or woman will be looking down the hallway of a nursing home and holler: “When is my son or daughter going to take me back home?” Not realizing that they’ve been placed there until death. 

 An old man stumbles out of his room in the middle of the night looking for his wife in an irate manner yelling: “Where is she!? Where’d that bitch go!?” I look at him and say: “She’s dead and has been dead for weeks now.” He breaks down into tears, only to repeat the same routine night after night. The nurses leave a note for him to try and remember... I’m not sure if he ever did. 

Parents will watch their children learn to grow and walk. 

Children learn in many ways, not just by word of mouth. So although it was never taught to me deliberately, I was raised with great resentment against people who were not of my faith. The Mormon, Catholic and Muslim were all enemies in my eyes. 

[sanrioscreamo]

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4

This season had me sobbing like ten times man,,, i am happy they covered that issue though. Depression and discrimintion in middle age is barely talked about.

Ton. Just… thirty fucking YEARS to that company to be shafted. This was a guy that worked hard and was dedicated to keeping things running smoothly and cared deeply about his staff. but due to being older and set in his ways, as well as being short tempered and not great at absorbing the latest leaps and bounds in technology, he was deemed old hat,,,

AND KABAE. DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED god the shame that mothers especially go through when theyre also working; if its not ppl telling you to commit to babysitting your kids 24/7, its the idea that having any time off bc of your children is considered you to be not being totally focused on your job and therefore replaceable.

Tsubone didnt get quite as much focus but you could also tell that it was getting to her, seeing co-workers in her age bracket being shafted and knowing she might be next. Seeing Ton reduced to a shell of himself. Having to take up a job in a supermarket after being pushed from his pedestal (no shade to ppl who work at convenience stores or any retail work but it’s disheartening to go from such a top tier position only to be forced out and no one really consider you “forced out” bc you technically DID leave of your own volition!)

CAN WE ALSO!! TALK ABOUT how this show gave a huge middle finger on Japanese companies methods of phasing ppl out of the company without technically firing them. You wear them down with what is effectively psychological abuse tactics, make them feel useless!! But just subtly enough that you can’t be called out for discrimination. Then you can push the narrative that it was THEIR choice to quit and Hey They Got Severance Pay So They Got The Best Deal Possible Really,,, UGH

Season 4 be taking characters that were effectively jokes or villains and giving them tragic character growth AND I AM HERE FOR IT

[broccoliboix5peepeeman]

Midoriya-sensei AU

Part 4: Can I get your autograph?

Part 3 | Ao3 | Part 5.1

When the children were sent home after lunch, Izuku returned to the staff room and used the recess time to take some notes in his journal dedicated to Serenity Hero: Shoto, which he’d brought with him for the occasion.

While he was homeroom teacher for his first grade class, he taught English—his fluency heavily influenced by his obsession with All Might—and fortnightly Quirk Studies to upper elementary in the afternoon, so he had about twenty minutes before his next class. That was certainly enough time to word-dump everything he'd learnt from Shoto's visit, especially given that the staff room was empty for once; no distractions. It was also ideal because that way none of his co-workers could witness the dopey smile plastered to his face as he wrote.

More handsome in person

Doesn't use honorifics uses honorifics with teachers

Ambidextrous but prioritises his right hand

Good with children—patient, accommodating and blunt (in a good way)

Soft-spoken (voice cooler sexier calmer in person) and doesn't interrupt. Good listener

Smile is better in person. He smiled at me six times! Eyes crinkle and he gets one dimple ♡

Izuku had ten minutes to spare when he finally finished, so didn’t rush as he returned the journal to his bag. As he knelt down to get to his locker though, he heard the door open. Expecting it to be one of the other teachers, Izuku chirped what Todoroki had called a "retail greeting", and zipped up his bag without looking up.

'Good afternoon, Midoriya-sensei.'

Izuku almost jumped out of his skin and hurriedly got to his feet to find Shoto standing by the door, watching him with curious dichromatic eyes. Izuku flushed, partly at their intensity and partly because he literally just had his ass stuck in the air.

'Shoto-san! What're you doing here?' He immediately winced and waved his hands in front of his face placatingly. 'Not that you shouldn't be here! I wasn't trying to be accusatory! Of course, you're free to go wherever you want, I just wondered… why here in particular?'

He trailed off with a sigh, but if the hero was affronted or annoyed, he didn't show it.

'Nee- Todoroki-sensei told me to wait here, seeing as I'm talking to her grade 5 maths class next.'

'Oh, I see.' Izuku replied with a nod, only for the two of them to fall into silence. Several seconds passed as he tried to get his mouth to work, shuffling on his feet and rubbing his arm. For years, he'd built up an array of questions for the man in front of him, yet now he couldn't even formulate a sentence.

Luckily, the hero spoke first.

‘You’re really good with kids.’ Shoto looked stiff, if not for his left hand, where he tapped his fingers with his thumb, one by one. Perhaps he was nervous too, not that he had any reason to be.

‘I hope so.’ Izuku laughed awkwardly in response, rubbing the back of his head. ‘Otherwise I’d be in the wrong occupation.’

‘That’s true.’ Shoto scratched his cheek and looked away, not sure how to continue.

‘Thank you though. If it means anything, you’re also good with kids.’ Izuku flashed him a warm smile. ‘Todoroki-san told me you were, so it isn't surprising, but still, I thought I should say.’

‘Nee-san?’ Shoto seemed shocked for a moment. 'She talks about me?'

'Just to me, because we’re friends. She knows I love heroes, and she's very fond of you, so it works out in both of our favours.' He waved nonchalantly, grabbing his water bottle from the table to refill. However, when Shoto remained silent, Izuku suddenly realised. ‘Sorry! I hope that’s okay! She doesn’t talk about your personal life or anything, and it’s not like I’m a crazy obsessive fan… Well, I guess some would consider me obsessive, but not like a stalker! It's more that I’m fascinated by you and I’ve seen all your fights and I like to document heroes in general, but I’m not- I…’

‘Midoriya-sensei, it’s okay.’ Shoto’s lip twitched slightly. ‘Nee-san talks about you a lot too. I know you’re a good person.’

This time, it was Izuku's turn to freeze.

'S-S-She talks about…' He shook his head and laughed nervously as he pointed to himself. 'That worries me. I've done lots of embarrassing things in front of her.'

Like fawn over you.

'She's only ever had good things to say.' Shoto shrugged. 'I always like hearing her work stories, especially the ones involving you. Is it true that you greeted everyone by saying "namaste" for an entire year?'

Izuku could feel his face burn.

'W-Well, yes.' He had to stop stuttering. 'But for good reason, I promise. Has sh-she told you about "Global Month"?'

The hero nodded.

'Each class learns about a specific country for a month, then there's one day at the end where everyone goes around and sees each class's work, right? It's meant to encourage diversity and understanding of other cultures. Nee-san had the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago this year, I think?'

'Yeah!' Izuku brightened, finally refilling his bottle. 'Well, a few years ago, she had Italy and I had India, and because Hindi is one of the official languages of India, I decided to substitute "kon’nichiwa" with "namaste" for the month, to help the kids remember it. So, whenever I saw my pupils in the morning or during break or in passing, that's how I'd greet them, except it kind of became a habit that stuck for the rest of the school year. I ended up saying it to everyone, including the parents and the other teachers. They weren't impressed though, and it's better for everyone if I placate them, so I stopped... I still occasionally use it with Todoroki-san and the older students though.'

'Fuyumi mentioned how the other teachers act around you.' Shoto frowned. 'It's shitty.'

'Shoto-san!' Izuku squeaked, looking around despite the fact that they were alone, before sighing. 'They're not bad, honestly. I've had worse, plus they're professional in front of students and parents, which is what's most important. Other than that, they can think what they want about me… but I still try to be more agreeable when I can.'

Shoto's frown deepened.

'Have you done or said anything to warrant their dislike, other than be quirkless?'

After all these years, Izuku still held back a flinch at that word.

'I mumble a lot and can come across as fake and a try-hard.' He offered weakly. 'I have ASD too, which doesn't help.'

'So do I, but that doesn't affect how they see me.' Shoto responded bluntly and, well, that admission made a lot of sense, thinking about it. 'They're quirkist bastards and you owe them nothing.'

For the second time that day, Izuku was fighting back tears from something Shoto had said. He probably looked like a crybaby—hell, he was a crybaby—and yet he wasn't met with any judgement.

'Thank you, Shoto-san.' He swallowed thickly, flashing him a wobbly smile. 'That means a lot.'

The hero nodded his head in acknowledgement, but otherwise said nothing while Izuku regained his composure.

At a loss for what to say, he let out a wet chuckle. 'You're such a good hero.'

'I sure hope so.' Shoto's lips pulled into a small smile as he echoed Izuku's own words. 'Otherwise I'd be in the wrong profession.'

Despite himself, Izuku snorted out a laugh that reverberated through the staff room.

'That's true.' He giggled, feeling some semblance of confidence return. 'Yet I haven't even asked you for an autograph. My inner fanboy is ashamed.'

'Well, let's remedy that.' Shoto replied nonchalantly. 'You have a pen?'

Izuku's eyes bugged out and he hastily retrieved his journal, fishing a pen out from his hair in the process. When he presented them, however, he registered the surprise on the hero's face at seeing a book dedicated solely to him.

'Ah… I'd explain, but I got nothing. It's exactly what it looks like.' Izuku was bright red and sweating. 'Documenting heroes has always been my favourite hobby—strategies, fighting styles, strengths and weaknesses—even after I was told I could never become one. Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable… a lot of people find it creepy.'

Shoto shook his head, before gently taking it from him.

'I'm not uncomfortable. Any preference where you want me to sign?' When Izuku hesitantly pointed to the inside cover, he clicked the pen and wrote, keeping the message a secret. Once finished, dichromatic eyes glanced at the rest of the page, which probably showed the list of contents and page numbers. 'You're really thorough.'

'Ah… yeah, sorry.'

'Don't be. It's a good thing.' Shoto closed the journal and handed it back to Izuku. 'I hope one day you'll let me read through it. Maybe I'll learn something.'

'Of c-course!' He hugged the book close to his chest, thinking about all the little doodles that would betray his crush. 'It just needs a little… editing first.'

'Mhm.' Shoto regarded him for a moment, before turning away. 'Well, I best be on my way to the next class before the bell rings. It was a pleasure talking to you, Midoriya-sensei.'

'Y-You too!' Izuku exclaimed, bowing low in response to the hero's little wave. Once he heard the door close, he straightened up and frantically opened the journal, only to immediately baulk. 'Holy All Might.'

From one hero to another,

Shoto

090-XXX-XXXX (I trust you won't post this anywhere)

Izuku was glad the school bell drowned out his ecstatic squeal. It didn't even occur to him that Todoroki never did come to collect Shoto from the staff room.

[omegaplus]

# 4,274

My radio station’s grid frees up every Summer whenever students with shows go away for vacation, graduate, or move on. Chances are, anyone planning on staying and wanting extra time or slots will most likely get them. This is why for the past two years Omega WUSB had our busiest and most frequent Summer broadcast seasons. Putting together all these shows and playing tons of music for everyone listening is great, but it comes with a price.

It takes a lot of time to make anywhere from fifteen to twenty shows - and even more. We always have fellow dee-jays who go on vacation and donate their time to us, and last year our program director DJ Joi gave us an additional weekly Monday afternoon slot. That’s on top of our bi-weekly Saturday night slot. Could you imagine how much time it takes to find and grab music across 95-100 different music outlets, audition, and then edit them all through Audacity before each weekly / bi-weekly deadline? Do this at least once or twice a week for several one to four-hour shows and you’ll see how intense and consuming it is. Throw in other projects such as graphic design, writing short stories, and wanting to do several other things all at once such as learning Italian, job-searching, and HTML and I would feel an intense crush and anxiety that lasts all Summer long. Which brings me to this…

Over the summer I decided to treat myself, so I spent $3,000.00 total visiting every record store on Long Island and New York City I could visit. That’s about 575 different albums on vinyl, cassette, and disc currently sitting on the shelf. Divide both the money spent and acquisitions in half and you’ll get 2018’s record-store victory tour added. That’s enough music for me to be found dead under. Most of those purchases were made up of bands and artists I’ve been meaning to check out forever, on top of what I already have over the years.

It’s been getting out of control and for (literally) years I felt I was missing out. I feel left out not getting into artists I should have years ago because ‘just in case’. That goes back to how much time I spend preparing for my radio show. A lot of time is invested checking out all these new finds and editing shows for airplay. I get so involved in making my show that I’m forsaking all these great artists and sounds.

There was one instance where a mutual answered back on an INXS post I made long ago. She didn’t put me on the stake or test my loyalty, but I felt it. Can you believe I’m still feeling guilty about it. Ridiculous? Yes. But I strive to become the be-all end-all music aficionado. Why not? Ambition is in my blood. Another mutual told me not to rush things. Let the finds come to you and enjoy that moment. Then there’s the Roman goth girl: a Depeche Mode fanatic who pushed me to catch up on them. I was so busy with my projects that I have yet to listen to most of those purchases. I promised myself that I would find the time to go through them all plus more. To prepare for that, I’d have to sacrifice a little.

If there was one project to do differently or stop completely, it’s be Ω+. All of my followers of this personal music blog know I’ve been inconsistent for the past six months because of the above-mentioned reasons. I felt the stress of working 40 hours at retail, continuing projects, and wanting to return to others - all on my shoulders. It was too much work (and still is) for too little gain. That’s where I started falling behind on posting.

Even a couple of my mutuals and followers messaged me here asking me if this personal music blog was still going. That told me something. Followers had gotten used to seeing my / our posts on a regular basis; like a co-worker that everyone loves and expects to show up everyday to say “hi!” to, a radio voice you could always rely on after a tough day’s work, or driving by an eatery knowing that’ll be there for years to come when you need them.

There’s other things to take care of and felt like it wasn’t going anywhere anymore. For a while I wasn’t feeling it and didn’t have it in me, so I considered retiring Ω+ once and for all. But I realized something: why stop what I love doing? Why stop putting myself out there? Why stop seeing who’s paying attention and finding connections with my readers? Maybe the only thing I needed was a recharge?

So instead of stopping it, I’ve decided to keep Ω+ going. From this point on, I’ll be giving the same amount of focus on seasonal mixtapes, Omega WUSB playlists, special posts, and so on as usual. I also plan on not putting too much work into the usual reviews as much, but rather they’ll be shorter bursts and “now listening to” posts. Every little bit counts. I’m / we’re still going to do things with Ω+ that no other music blog here has - that is - if they even exist anymore. There’s still some missing gaps when checking the archives but for posterity they will be filled in eventually until we’re back at 100.00%. They’ll also be re-blogged so that we give these posts a chance.

Digitally preserving my entire library of cassette dubs is almost at its end, and eventually I’ll finally have more time freed up to tackle my purchases and unlistened music that I haven’t gotten to. I will audit them for inventory purposes and digitize them while archiving all of my CDr / DVDr’s starting this coming January. Learning Italian, coding, and switching careers are on the horizon.

Our ninth year of Ω+ has come to an end. Thanks to all of my / our followers, supporters, and listeners of all things Omega. We really appreciate it.

Ω+

Omega WUSB

Our Lady Of Omega

VMFX

[salmonthestoryteller]

So, I am a spoiler reader when it comes to stories.  I absolutely will read every spoiler out there on something I am interested in but can’t get my hands on yet. (There’s a long story involved in why I do this, all about a series I wasn’t able to see the end of for years but that’s not the point.)  Obviously, this has included Stranger Things Season 4.  So, I honestly thought I was 100% prepared.

Guys, how is it that among all the spoilers out there absolutely no one is talking about Hopper’s backstory??

Okay, I’m gonna hide some of this under a cut and not series or character tag cuz part of why this affects me is kinda personal, and also because this really needs like a zillion trigger warnings.  I’m not even sure what all tw to include.  Health issues, death, child death, still birth, war, war crimes?

I was not prepared for Hopper’s backstory to involve Agent Orange.  For the addressing of the lies told about it, for the mention of the stillbirths and other severe health effects on the kids of those exposed.  I wasn’t prepared for the link between it and the death of Hopper’s daughter.  I was shaking a bit from that and honestly cried.

Here’s the thing.  Some of my mutuals are aware that my father passed away a couple years ago and that I was his caretaker in the years leading up to his passing.  Here’s something I never really talked about - he was a Nam Vet who had been exposed to Agent Orange and - yes - that was where some of his health complications stemmed from.

Here’s the other thing.  I was working retail at that time, and I would mention it to co-workers when discussing being his caretaker.  Because we talked about our lives, and being his caretaker was part of my life.  At first, I figured it was common knowledge because it affected so many people.   And almost every single time, regardless of their age, my co-workers would stare at me - completely blank - and ask, “What is Agent Orange?”

And as someone who grew up knowing about it, who watched the health complications it caused my father, I couldn’t comprehend how they couldn’t know.  How it couldn’t be something that was taught.  I sometimes felt like a one-woman crusade to inform everyone in our store about Agent Orange, because it was just so wrong to me that it not be known.

Our country committed a fucking war crime.  It spent decades denying the effect Agent Orange had on everyone it came in contact with - from both sides of the war.  Our government still wants to deny that offspring from males who came in contact with it were affected - despite there being studies that show a connection. And my personal experience has been that a large portion of the American public has no fucking clue about it at all.

So, yeah, I’m glad a popular modern show spoke about it.  I’m glad it’s getting that exposure.  I hope this brings it more into the spotlight.  Because it absolutely should not be forgotten and swept under the rug.

I also was caught completely off-guard by it being included in the series, so I’m gonna go cry a bit more.

[lightthewaybackhome]

Sorry this is so long. Probably should have done a 2 parter.

"My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage!" - Aunt Frances, Practical Magic

 

My whole life, as far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be artistic. I’ve wanted to create. I love beauty. I love artistry. I love creation. I love the artsy look: jewelry, tattoos, flowing clothing, and funky hair. It is a personal aesthetic I keep returning to, especially as I get older. As a child, I tried so many different forms of art—painting, photography, drawing— but none of them seemed quite right. None of them got what was in my head out. All of them fell short until I started writing. Writing was a flame, a fire, a drug. Writing allowed me to express what was in my imagination. This is the first thing to understand.

Everyone is artistic and art is everywhere. I’ve believed this as long as I can remember. There are amazing artistic feats in our world: books, movies, video games, paintings, sculptures, and magnificent pieces of music. Yes, art can be very high and very special. But, art can also be found in charcuterie boards, homemade quilts, sourdough bread, cocktails, soup, and all ordinary things if we but look and see. Art can be high magic and art can be ordinary. This is the second thing to understand.

As I’ve embraced being a homemaker, a HearthKeeper, a woman where she’s meant to be, I came across the term domestic artist. As much as I didn’t like the book Eve in Exile by Rebekah Merkle, it gave me this. It gave me the term domestic artist. That stuck with me. It spoke to me because it captured both the first and the second thing. It captured the never-ceasing call to create which haunts me at all times, and it elevated and honored the ordinary in a sprinkling of fairy dust. It said, “Yes, you have to cook today. Three meals plus snacks and drinks. It’s your job, but, but, what if, what if instead of looking at it as some drudgery, some Cinderella enslavement, what if you looked at it as an opportunity to create beauty?”

Not every meal, every outfit, every moment of your day can be a work of art. Some days you just have to do what you have to do. Some days get upended in the opening credits with a broken washer or a sleepless child. Some days plans change. Life changes. One minute life looks like this, and then the next it’s on to something completely different. But, the beauty of being a domestic artist is that you can create art in any of these moments and in any setting. You can find art in any moment and in any setting.

See, the world tells us that homemaking, HearthKeeping, is boring. It tells us it’s pointless. A waste. You could be changing the world. Only dumb useless women keep their homes. And that’s because they’re either tied down by a dictator of a husband or the demands of children or the cultural trappings of their religion. Courage, dear heart. Courage! Homemaking is magic. Homemaking is flexible. Homemaking changes with the seasons and the woman. I, I am a bit bohemian, a bit rustic, a mixture of rugged and romantic. I grew up a tomboy, but have embraced being a woman in her home since I was a child. I love leather and lace. I love cottage-witch aesthetics. I love boots and long flowing things. I like deer heads, linen, skulls, and ruffles. I like feathers and dreamcatchers, but I also love to decorate with open space. I love pies and feeding my husband. But, look at this, one of my best friends is a classic. She loves clean lines, traditional and timeless pieces. She loves modern accents. She loves beachy highlights and hammocks. She’s not into farmhouse, rustic modern, or raw-edged wood. On any given Sunday, she’s in a pencil skirt, simple top, simple heels with her three daughters in matching dresses while I’m in distressed boyfriend jeans, a mullet-tucked top, and wearing my crow skull. We’re very different, but we’re both homemakers who love making our homes.

I have a woman in my life who quilts and that flows out into their decorating. So many of her things are beautifully hand sewn. If she wants it, she makes it. Another friend grew up in Africa and her home is filled with her love of that culture. One dear friend loves plants and grows amazing flowers that she uses to create Instagram-worth bouquets. Another woman isn’t super fluffy-feminine but she has an eye for remodeling and so is constantly making improvements on her home: flooring, painting, and more. My sisters, like me, both enjoy a minimalist approach to decorating and all three of us have a special place for coffee. Both my sisters’ homes are welcoming and peaceful even with kids running around like crazy.

That’s the point, the world tells women to band together, that we’re a sisterhood, that we should go out and change the world, abandoning our homes before we’re relegated to only kitchen and nursery work, but reality tells me that the most amazing women I know are busy in their homes. This is sisterhood. This is where we bloom. It is here that we have flexibility. For over five years, I’ve struggled with chronic health issues. Homemaking lets me decide each day what I can do and how I’m going to do it. Homemaking lets you change what you do for each season of life. Lots of littles? Keep it simple. Empty nest? Explore. Somewhere in between? Keep growing. Lots of energy? So many things you can expand into if you just refuse to believe the lie that homemaking is beneath you. Don’t be normal. Don’t believe that homemaking is a waste of time. Don’t buy into the lie that you are somehow being less than everyone else when you raise your children, love your husband, and create beauty. Have the courage to be strange. We were made for this! It suits us. This is an environment women thrive in.

When I got over my grammar inhibitions and started writing, I felt like my soul came alive. I felt like I’d finally found what I’d been searching for since I came into this world. It doesn’t matter whether I’m writing an epic story or writing about HearthKeeping or just word doodling, writing, words, stories just flow from me. Wonderfully, homemaking is like that for me, too. I want to read books, I want to learn, I want to talk about it, I want to do it. It’s not perfect. I don’t always feel glorious, but I do feel ‘right’ when I’m doing this. I feel like I’m where I belong. I feel like this is a place I can both rest in and grow in. I feel safe when I’m having a fatigue flare up and I feel excited when I think about all that I can do.

A real-life example: Sundays are long hard days. They’re days that generally spike my fatigue and my husband is worn out. They’re both the best and hardest day of the week. When we get home I make a cocktail and we crash. Inevitably, the minute I sit down my man asks for a snack and what we’re having for dinner. For several years, this drove me up a wall. It is Sunday. The day of REST, why is it my responsibility to always make food? Epic sigh. Epic whiny sigh. I would meal plan for the whole week and then wing it on Sunday and Monday, always with poor results and grumpiness on my part. Then, one week as I meal-planned, I realized that I could also prepare for the weekend. Lightbulb. Facepalm. Really? Why had it taken me into my 40th year of life to realize that if I want a quiet, restful, happy weekend, I should just plan snacks, drinks, and meals ahead of time? I’m going to blame it on my chronic health, brain fog addled mind. I’m going to blame it on laziness. I’m going to blame it on being a young homemaker. Some are understandable, some are inexcusable.

Sundays now involve way less stress because I can immediately prepare snacks and know what we’re eating the minute we get home. No more attitude issue. No more stress. Easy and nice.

Did this change the world? Does this matter to anyone but myself? Did my husband even notice? Maybe not, but this is homemaking. This is HearthKeeping. It is my job and my calling. Even without notice or world-shattering consequences, I’m pleased with the outcome. More than pleased, I’m really happy about it. It brings me joy and delight to find a better way to take care of my family. It allows me to sprinkle my Sunday afternoon with just a little bit of artistry. I make drinks, snacks, dinner. I feed my family.

See, one of the lies that the feminists preach is that we’re wasted in our homes. And yet, the majority of the women I know who work outside the home aren’t doing glamorous jobs. They’re not travel bloggers or world-renowned chiefs or CEOs. They’re cosmetologists, retail workers, bank tellers, nurses, teachers, and such. Now, none of those are bad. Working outside the home isn’t bad. (I think each family has to decide what family looks like to them.) Please, please, don’t read that as degrading. I worked retail and I think retail is important. These are all God-honoring employment in which you can strive and serve. I’m not bashing any of those jobs. I have many many dear friends who work outside the home. What I am saying is that I think we as women need to ask ourselves if leaving our homes en masse was worth it. Has it given us all the joy, delight, and fulfillment the feminists promised us?

I’ve done both. I’ve been a co-owner of a business that I helped grow from nothing to something amazing. I’ve worked as an everyday retail worker. I write and am the main editor for a small neighborhood magazine. And I’m a HearthKeeper. I will tell you right now, no qualifications, that HearthKeeping is the most satisfying job I’ve ever had. It not only challenges me every day but it also works with me. The boundaries are what I set in place and so I grow as I can. The work never ends, yes, but it also never ends. There is always something else to explore.

I think being a homemaker is largely attitude. You can buck against what you do, and most women do. Just spend two minutes on Pinterest looking at doing laundry or dishes and the bitter hatred comes pouring out. Look at the complaints women make against their churches: we’re relegated to doing nursery work and kitchen duty. What if, just for a moment, we decided to be Domestic Artists? What if, for just a moment, we tried loving our jobs instead of complaining? What if we thought that dishes meant food and good times and healing of the souls around us? What if we saw laundry as a way to keep beauty and cleanliness around us? What if we saw it as our privilege and delight to take care of the food, children, clothing, cleaning, cooking, gardening, growing of the next generation, and the men of the world? What if we embraced the domestic arts and saw them as truly magnificent, glorious, unique arts? How many of us would be able to say with a straight face that working retail is more fulfilling than managing a small world? Is it more fulfilling to go work in an office than it is to orchestrate a place of welcome, rest, and renewal for your husband and yourself? It might be more visible, but is it truly more long-lasting?

I can say that it isn’t. I can say that I think being a homemaker is uniquely suited for women and that we should have the courage to go against the grain of our world and say no. No, I’m not going to give all of myself to work outside the home when the home is far more challenging and interesting. No, I’m not going to believe the lie that homemaking is oppression and boredom. I will find beauty in the ordinary and I will embrace art in the everyday. This is one of those amazing jobs where it is what you make it. It is what you pour into it. If you think it’s boring or demeaning you won’t get anything out of it. If you think it is challenging and rewarding, you will get the world out of it. You will grow yourself and those around you. Think about what a wonderful thing it would be if we made our homes our careers! If we women really took on the label Domestic Artist in our own individual ways.

[jenniferisacommonname]

Bonus Level Unlocked

This week marks the release of Jason Schreier’s Press Reset, an incredibly well-researched book on catastrophic business failure in the gaming industry. Jason’s a good dude, and there’s an excerpt here if you want to check it out. Sadly, game companies going belly-up is such a common occurrence that he couldn’t possibly include them all, and one of the stories left out due to space constraints is one that I happen to be personally familiar with. So, I figured I’d tell it here.

I began working at Acclaim Studios Austin as a sound designer in January of 2000. It was a tumultuous period for the company, including a recent rebranding from their former studio name, “Iguana Entertainment,” and a related, ongoing lawsuit from the ex-founder of Iguana. There were a fair number of ghosts hanging around—the creative director’s license plate read IGUANA, which he never changed, and one of the meeting rooms held a large, empty terrarium—but the studio had actually been owned on paper by Acclaim since 1995, and I didn’t notice any conflicting loyalties. Everyone acted as if we always had been, and always would be, Acclaim employees.

Over the next few years I worked on a respectable array of triple-A titles, including Quarterback Club 2002, Turok: Evolution, and All-Star Baseball 2002 through 2005. (Should it be “All-Stars Baseball,” like attorneys general? Or perhaps a term of venery, like “a zodiac of All-Star Baseball.”) At any rate, it was a fun place to work, and a platformer of hijinks ensued.

But let’s skip to the cutscene. The truth is that none of us in the trenches suspected the end was near until it was absolutely imminent. Yes, Turok: Evolution and Vexx had underperformed, especially when stacked against the cost of development, but games flop in the retail market all the time. And, yes, Showdown: Legends of Wrestling had been hustled out the door before it was ready for reasons no one would explain, and the New York studio’s release of a BMX game featuring unlockable live-action stripper footage had been an incredibly weird marketing ploy for what should have been a straightforward racing title. (Other desperate gimmicks around this time included a £6,000 prize for UK parents who would name their baby “Turok,” an offer to pay off speeding tickets to promote Burnout 2 that quickly proved illegal, and an attempt to buy advertising space on actual tombstones for a Shadow Man sequel.)

But the baseball franchise was an annual moneymaker, and our studio had teams well into development on two major new licenses, 100 Bullets and The Red Star. Enthusiasm was on the upswing. Perhaps I should have paid closer attention when voice actors started calling me to complain that they hadn’t been paid, but at the time it seemed more like a bureaucratic failure than an actual money shortage—and frankly, it was a little naïve of them to expect net-30 in the first place. Industry standard was, like, net-90 at best. So I was told.

Then one Friday afternoon, a few department managers got word that we’d kind of maybe been skipping out on the building lease for let’s-not-admit-how-many months. By Monday morning, everyone’s key cards had been deactivated.

It's a little odd to arrive at work and find a hundred-plus people milling around outside—even odder, I suppose, if your company is not the one being evicted. Acclaim folks mostly just rolled their eyes and debated whether to cut our losses and head to lunch now, while employees of other companies would look dumbfounded and fearful before being encouraged to push their way through the crowd and demonstrate their still-valid key card to the security guard. Finally, the General Manager (hired only a few months earlier, and with a hefty relocation bonus to accommodate his houseboat) announced that we should go home for the day and await news. Several of our coworkers were veterans of the layoff process—like I said, game companies go under a lot—and one of them had already created a Yahoo group to communicate with each other on the assumption that we’d lose access to our work email. A whisper of “get on the VPN and download while you can” rippled through the crowd.

But the real shift in tone came after someone asked about a quick trip inside for personal items, and the answer was a hard, universal “no.” We may have been too busy or ignorant to glance up at any wall-writing, but the building management had not been: they were anticipating a full bankruptcy of the entire company. In that situation, all creditors have equal standing to divide up a company's assets in lengthy court battles, and most get a fraction of what they’re owed. But if the landlords had seized our office contents in lieu of rent before the bankruptcy was declared, they reasoned, then a judge might rule that they had gotten to the treasure chest first, and could lay claim to everything inside as separate from the upcoming asset liquidation.

Ultimately, their gambit failed, but the ruling took a month to settle. In the meantime, knick knacks gathered dust, delivered packages piled up, food rotted on desks, and fish tanks became graveyards. Despite raucous protest from every angle—the office pets alone generated numerous threats of animal cruelty charges—only one employee managed to get in during this time, and only under police escort. He was a British citizen on a work visa, and his paperwork happened to be sitting on his desk, due to expire. Without it, he was facing literal deportation. Fortunately, a uniformed officer took his side (or perhaps just pre-responded to what was clearly a misdemeanor assault in ovo,) and after some tense discussion, the building manager relented, on the condition that the employee touch absolutely nothing beyond the paperwork in question. The forms could go, but the photos of his children would remain.

It’s also a little odd, by the way, to arrive at the unemployment office and find every plastic chair occupied by someone you know. Even odder, I suppose, if you’re actually a former employee of Acclaim Studios Salt Lake, which had shut down only a month or two earlier, and you just uprooted your wife and kids to a whole new city on the assurance that you were one of the lucky ones who got to stay employed. Some of them hadn’t even finished unpacking.

Eventually, we were allowed to enter the old office building one at a time and box up our things under the watchful eye of a court appointee, but by then our list of grievances made the landlords’ ploy seem almost quaint by comparison (except for the animals, which remains un-fucking-forgivable.) We had learned, for example, that in the weeks prior to the bankruptcy, our primary lender had made an offer of $15 million—enough to keep us solvent through our next batch of releases, two of which had already exited playtesting and were ready to be burned and shipped. The only catch was that the head of the board, company founder Greg Fischbach, would have to step down. This was apparently too much of an insult for him to stomach, and he decided that he'd rather see everything burn to the ground. The loan was refused.

Other “way worse than we thought” details included gratuitous self-dealing to vendors owned by board members, the disappearance of expensive art from the New York offices just before closure, and the theft of our last two paychecks. For UK employees, it was even more appalling: Acclaim had, for who knows how long, been withdrawing money from UK paychecks for their government-required pension funds, but never actually putting the money into the retirement accounts. They had stolen tens of thousands of dollars directly from each worker.

Though I generally reside somewhere between mellow and complete doormat on the emotional spectrum, I did get riled enough to send out one bitter email—not to anyone in corporate, but to the creators of a popular webcomic called Penny Arcade, who, in the wake of Acclaim’s bankruptcy announcement, published a milquetoast jibe about Midway’s upcoming Area 51. I told Jerry (a.k.a. “Tycho”) that I was frankly disappointed in their lack of cruelty, and aired as much dirty laundry as I was privy to at the time.

“Surely you can find a comedic gem hidden somewhere in all of this!” I wrote. “Our inevitable mocking on PA has been a small light at the end of a very dark, very long tunnel. Please at least allow us the dignity of having a smile on our faces while we wait in line for food stamps.”

Two days later, a suitably grim comic did appear, implying the existence of a new release from Acclaim whose objective was to run your game company into the ground. In the accompanying news post, Tycho wrote:

“We couldn’t let the Acclaim bankruptcy go without comment, though we initially let it slide thinking about the ordinary gamers who lost their jobs there. They don’t have anything to do with Acclaim’s malevolent Public Relations mongrels, and it wasn’t they who hatched the Titty Bike genre either. Then, we remembered that we have absolutely zero social conscience and love to say mean things.”

Another odd experience, by the way, is digging up a 16-year-old complaint to a webcomic creator for nostalgic reference when you offer that same creator a promotional copy of the gaming memoir you just co-wrote with Sid Meier. Even odder, I suppose, to realize that the original non-Acclaim comic had been about Area 51, which you actually were hired to work on yourself soon after the Acclaim debacle.*

As is often the case in complex bankruptcies, the asset liquidation took another six years to fully stagger its way through court—but in 2010, we did, surprisingly, get the ancient paychecks we were owed, plus an extra $1,700-ish for the company’s apparent violation of the WARN Act. By then, I had two kids and a very different life, for which the money was admittedly helpful. Sadly, Acclaim’s implosion probably isn’t even the most egregious one on record. Our sins were, to my knowledge, all money-related, and at least no one was ever sexually assaulted in our office building. Again, to my knowledge. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure we remain the only historical incident of corporate pet murder. The iguana got out just in time.

*Area 51’s main character was voiced by David Duchovny, and he actually got paid—which was lucky for him, because three years later, Midway also declared bankruptcy.

[trials-by-blood]

Umm...I always see Yautja being paired up with someone strong and skilled and stuff. I was wondering if you could write something with any Yautja being with someone who is shy, meek, and a little chubby. And when they're alone or think they are they sing along to music and dance even though they can't.XD Sorry if I'm asking too much or anything...

Fegris, the dump world where the unwanted are left to rot and crumble.

  This was once a world where the yautja would crash their obsolete vessels so that they could not fall into use by the other space faring races. Ships were not the only things they left behind. Exiles, heretics, or anyone who upset the balance of their society were also left to wither, but not all did.

  In the following ages, other peoples would use Fegris as a place to forget their burdens. The Faceless Ones unloaded their collected specimens here when science deemed that their time of usefulness had ended.

  Now generations of humans, yautja, clade, mind eaters and all manner of invasive species build their cities here, clinging to half remembered mockeries of their mother cultures. Here, all Forgotten busy themselves mining ore, seeking pleasurable escape, stripping precious metals from ancient wrecks, gambling, farming, extorting, building, destroying, breeding, killing.

  One of the few honest livings to be made anywhere, the food service industry, prospers here. Organic people must eat, so this work will never die.

  Heather, an old name from an old world no one can recall, worked for her room and board at what would best resemble a mall food court. It wasn't a particularly hazardous occupation, so long as you don't taste-test the food or stay long after the coalition of retail outlets close.

(OOC: Okay this ran WAY longer than I anticipated and I had to make the choice to cap it off at 2,500ish words. I’m sorry if this TOTALLY misses the vibe you were hoping for, I kinda got carried away. Oops)

  Once, she'd made that mistake. Even her cold hearted rock-sucker of a boss told her not to bother finishing the cleaning if it meant staying after hours, but she hadn't listened. Heather hadn't wanted to leave her work half done and risk losing her job and newly acquired living space on her first day. So she'd stayed to wipe down the counters and load the trolly cart with the leftovers for the cooler. The reward for a job well finished was stepping out into the market spaces abandoned by customers and workers but repopulated by the local Yautja Bad-bloods and their rivals, The Cranium Skaggers. They were working through a territorial dispute.

  The Skaggers were human, but barely. They injected enhancement serums, most barely tested, directly into their brain tissues via an implanted port installed at the top of their shaved heads.

  Heather had stepped out of her safe enclosed little work area into a street brawl, and was pinned between the doors she'd only just locked and the carnal violence of the city. One of the yautja, who's vision was... not like hers, must have mistaken her bright heat signature and rapid heart rhythm for a Cranium Skagger.

  Oh, she tried to run when she saw him move on her with his unhuman, talon tipped hand outstretched to seize her. Heather had dropped her bag, the keys, the silly hat which matched with her uniform, and she ran but he was fast, so horridly fast for something so big, heavy, and grieved with bulky armor.

  It only took him three strides, thud thud thud, to reach her and tangle his terrible claws into the back of her long tunic. She was thrown, landing hard, disoriented and crying out as deep, raw pain shot up her left hip and into her pelvis. Something was broken.

  She saw him, her attacker, and the blades attached to his dominant arm glistening with the blood of Cranium Skagger's, but she didn't even think to cover her face. All she could do was scream for help.

  Her plea was answered. A great clawed fist smashed across the Yautja's mask with such force that his yowling face was revealed as his helm was torn from him. Next, skulls collided with a clapping of flesh so sharp, Heather thought someone had cracked a whip above her.

  One Yautja had begun to fight another. That was when she did the sensible thing, curling her arms over her head and making herself as small as she could.

  She survived that night. That battle resolved itself as she lied on the ground trembling and weeping in terror, but her savior stuck around after all the others had left. He put her things next to her, and waited until her boss came to collect her and get her help. The yautja must have gone through her communicator for her contacts.

  The fractured hip was easily and painlessly repaired but the procedure had completely drained her savings. To her shock and mild horror, someone had wired to her account credits in the exact amount to replace what she'd spent at the Urgent Intervention Facility to fix her leg.

  When she returned to work, who was there at the food court? The yautja who'd stayed that night. He stood out like a broken finger, the cleaned hand bones and torn out skull ports of Skaggers littered about what he wore like grim badges of honor. The sight of him watching her enter her workplace sent a chill up Heather's spine.

  This kept up for weeks, until The Indecent was months behind her. She'd go to work, and he'd be there, just watching. Heather's co-workers weren't fans of her admirer. Yagon, the young clade boy who took the morning shift before her was the least fond of the yautja lingering around.

  Today, as Heather stepped past her bad-blood observer who had decided to lean against the wall next to the employee entrance, Yagon was peeking out from the door to keep a watchful eye on her as she came in for her shift.

  Yagon chittered irritably, antennae vibrating as he took off his smock and hat so he could scratch his double claws at the translator hanging on a lanyard around his the joining of his head and thorax.

  The voice emanating from the little box was monotone and purposefully slow so that it could be heard clearly as he continued chirping and tweeting.

  "You know what that creep does all day waiting for you to come in? He listens to recordings of you singing on your shifts."

  Heather cringed. That was creepy. She'd had a feeling that he'd been able to hear her sing to herself from where he usually hung around, but she never thought he'd record her. It felt incredibly invasive. She briefly imagined confronting him about it, but thought better of it. He could crush her skull between his hands as if it were a brittle little Skitterling egg. She hunched her shoulders and hugged herself a bit.

  Yagon then turned and dropped the claws of his primary arms on her shoulders.

  "I can file an anonymous report for you. Please? I don't want to come in to work one day and find out something happened to you."

  Heather sighed, trying not to vividly imagine how an exiled yautja might retaliate to that.

  "N- no, I think that would just make things worse, Yagon," Heather tried not to whimper.

  Yagon finished folding his smock and hat into his bag and left, but not before offering twice more to file that report.

  A few hours passed and Heather caught herself singing a handful of times as she fell into her work routine but always stopped when she remembered who was listening. It felt awful, being observed so closely and denied the personal freedom do anything without fear of having it recorded for some stranger's entertainment.

  Again, she thought about confronting the yautja watcher, but couldn't help the violent catastrophes imagined with the idea.

  She felt like she couldn't make a noise or do a thing for herself to make this crappy job the least bit bearable without putting on some bizarre show for Captain Cranium Crusher out there! Heather's frustration built and built until she couldn't take it anymore.

  The walk-in cooler. It was sound proof, right? The moment she finished the lunch-rush line of customers holding out their trays for their greasy food, Heather tore off her gloves, tossed them in the general direction of the trash chute and turned on her heel to stomp her way to that cooler door.

  Heather glanced over the counter to confirm the Skull Collecting Jerk was still out there haunting the seating area. There he was, arms crossed against his chiseled chest, ass planted on a chair that could barely hold his weight with his big ugly sandled feet propped up on one of the tables. Bastard.

  She pulled open the thick insulated door and slammed it behind her. First she simply bellowed angrily, stomped her foot, slapped a bag of single serve condiments as hard as she could manage, doing anything to break the severe edge from her frustration.

  "UGH! WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" She tore off her work smock and threw her hat on the floor to stomp on it, "I'M JUST A SHORT, ROUND, NOBODY WHO SHOVELS SLOP ONTO PLATES SIX HOURS A DAY. I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN IN A REAL FIGHT! I'M NOTHING! WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME? WHAT THE FUCK COULD BE SO INTERESTING ABOUT ME?! STOP WATCHING ME, YOU ASSHOLE!"

  Then, spitefully, she sang her favorite song, watching the misty puffs of her breath dissipate as her heart pounded.

  Now, she felt cold and her throat hurt from belting out her very favorite lyrics so harshly. It wasn't fair, she shouldn't have to be reminded of that night every afternoon on her shift. It sucked, and somehow she felt guilty for being angry even though none of this was her fault and she knew she had every right to be angry. So Heather curled up and cried in the cooler for a half-hour at the helplessness she felt. It felt gross, and she knew by now there had to be a never-ending line of pissed off customers outside. She was afraid of confrontation and couldn't ever imagine herself actually standing up to anyone. She could already tell that she'd be crying in her apartment after work too. Whob wouldn't after the verbal abuse she'd no doubt suffer at the service counter from customers tired of waiting.

  Miserably, Heather stood and steeled her resolve to go back out there. With a deep, shaky breath, put her smock back on and fixed her hat.

  "I'll get through it because I'm good at getting through it," she told herself to make it easier to reach for that door.

  Chur-clunk. Chur-clunk. It was jammed. Oh no the cooler door was stuck. Heather put her weight into her next push, then her entire being into the push after that.

  "Oh GODS I'm going to freeze to death!" she wailed, pushing at the door again with everything she had.

  Frustration, anger, helplessness, now panic. She didn't want to die alone of hypothermia at work.

  There was a bang and a great dent had appeared in the thick door. Before she could figure what was happening, the door was torn completely from the reinforced hinges. Heather shrieked and fell squarely on her bottom.

  There he was again, who else would it be coming to her rescue and staring coldly down at her through the dead lenses of that helmet.

  In one swift motion he lifted his left arm and clicked away at the keys of his gauntlet computer with those claws. The hologram display showed Heather a collection of files marked with icons she recognized. They were just cropped, slightly fuzzy pictures of her name tag for work. With a few more taps of his claw, all of the icons dissolved. He deleted them. He'd deleted all of his recordings which pertained to her.

  "Oh, shit, you heard all of that," Heather whimpered, clutching her head with both hands in mortification. He must have heard what Yagon said earlier too.

  He said nothing, made no noise. He just stood there like an imposing statue for a few tense seconds before turning to stride away.

  She wasn't fired for the broken door and spoiled food. Before she could even collect herself from the floor in the cooler, her boss was wired a credit transfer for "damages".

  Later as she heard of his generosity, it also explained the mysterious funds appearing in her account after the hip procedure. That had been Him too.

  Her "admirer" didn't come back after that, which was a relief for the first week or two. After a while she found herself over thinking the whole thing. Yautja were notorious for being socially incomprehensible. Heather wondered if he just pitied her so much after one of his own kind damn-near destroyed her that he felt responsible for her continued safety. Or, maybe he was just a stalking sleeze-ball. She tended to flounder between the two conclusions, but one thing was certain, he was respecting her boundaries now and she appreciated that.

  After nearly a month, she decided that the best closure she'd get was accepting that the entire ordeal was some bizarre misunderstanding, totally on his part, and he did a few nice things but that didn't make up for the weeks and weeks of discomfort he'd inflicted.

  More time passed, Heather became more comfortable with her new job, and she very nearly forgot about that Yautja. The only time she remembered him were on cold days when her hip would ache, but it was pleasantly warm out on the afternoon she came in for her shift and found Yagon agitated with his antennae twitching so fast one might expect them to fly off his head. Heather looked around, hoping that the cleaning she couldn't finish the night before hadn't upset him. What she found was... Unusual, and she certainly hadn't left the thing there last night.

  It was a skull, from what she wasn't sure, sitting there on the counter by the check out scanner.

  "The Creep is back. This time he left a name with that." Yagon's translator couldn't read the inflections in his speech, but Heather could tell where the translator omitted expletives.

  "W-hat was it? His name?"

  "Stone Fist was the direct translation. I can't get the translator to say the correct pronunciation in his language and he made a scene about it until I threatened to call security. You know what that thing means, don't you?"

  Heather nodded, she knew what it meant. Everyone did. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the empty sockets of the skull. It was as if it were staring through her being.

  "I can still file that report, Heather," Yagon offered again.

  "Don't, I mean... As long as I don't take it, then nothing happens. Right?"

  "As far as I'm aware? I think that's how it works."

  If Heather didn't touch it, he wouldn't come back. If she took it home, he'd follow her home because accepting an offering like that was an act of giving permission to pursue courtship.

  Working with that lifeless skull watching her was eerie to say the least. She covered it with her hat midway through her shift so she didn't have to look at it. At the end of her shift as she fiddled with the patterned key to lock up before she left, she considered the skull one last time. No, She wasn't taking it, but she'd leave a note. Two notes actually, one to ask Stone Fist if he would consider an actual conversation before anything else, and a second note to apologize to Yagon for asking him to speak with Stone Fist again.

To Be Continued?

[northwest-cryptid]

Something I've learned from my time as a manager (and also my time working retail as everything under management) is that leading by fear will breed nothing more than rebellion. Leading by respect will harbor unity and teamwork.

This isn't a hard concept to understand, the people who worked the hardest for me were the people who saw me taking the initiative to help them with their daily jobs; the people who came to respect me because I would outright tell them that I get paid more, I'm higher on the corporate ladder; and therefore I need to be doing more than them.

These people saw me as a co-worker and not as some loud mouth boss who would boss them around; because I was. I was a team player, I wanted my workers to feel respected not for the sake of productivity but because they're human beings who deserve equal respect regardless of their job title.

If something NEEDED to be done, well guess what; as the MANAGER it is my responsibility to ensure that it gets done. I need to MANAGE the situation, that's my job; not yelling at everyone to make it happen while I sit on my ass getting paid a ton of money to micro-manage everyone.

I was once a part of a wonderful happening at a workplace that I shall not name since it's a larger chain but essentially the wait staff had gotten fed up with managers yelling at us because we'd been working our asses off all day. So when a manager told me to hurry up and clean faster I had told him "there are gloves right next to you, if it matters that much; put them on and give me a hand." He tried to talk back to me but another waiter nearby literally just said "no, fuck you man. We're doing this our way today. What are you going to do about it? Fire us all? Then who is gonna clean around here, you? Yea that's what I thought." The entire rest of the day tables were cleaned and ready for guests, the kitchen ran smoothly with food getting out to customers on time, and the wait staff took regular breaks, we made more in tips that day by a large margin as well. It got to the point the management went to the higher ups, brought in the general manager who took one look at the place and actually just said "I fail to see the problem, they're doing their jobs, customers are happy; we're making sales."

If you try to enforce punishment, if you try to lead your workplace with an iron fist and harsh rules all you're going to do is tell your workers that it's you vs them. That they should resent you, that they should band together against you; and you might think "great yea they're going to learn unity from their hatred of me!" No they won't.

They will slowly learn to hate each other, because one of them will be the first to slack off and not fear punishment, that person will be labeled as lazy and it will put extra work on the others who maybe can't afford to lose their jobs. Now they're at each other's throats, no one is happy to work with "this guy" and eventually someone will quit over it, now you're short staffed and no one is going to put up with your shit forever because guess what, they can get another job. Especially if you're a low paying retail/food service job, and no your tips don't matter trust me.

A good manager who cares about their team and works alongside them and actually carries their weight can take the most dysfunctional group of misfits and make them into a proper team who can run a place so well no one has to even lift a finger to do extra work.

I have managed several locations and stores from big name retail shops to mom and pop adult stores. I used to be humble and say that I'm no expert on how these things should go, but that I'm just doing my best. However given my years of experience in the field I can safely say that actually, no; I am something of an expert at this point.

This goes for all forms of "authority" whether it's school teachers, managers/bosses, or even parents.

If you're someone who shows support to your team in a tangible way; and you lead not by fear of punishment but by respect for your people and their well-being. You will find much more success in being taken seriously, being listened to, and actually getting whatever it is you need done, done.

the whole concept of authority is hysterically stupid to me. "i'm in charge so you have to do as i say!" no i don't lol

[enigmawrappedinhypocrisy]

Do you think Barley's working a crappy retail job? He's in his gap year but he still needs money to fix Guinevere and fund escapades. I can just see him in a uniform shirt he hates and had to get his tattoo done around, has to be covered by his sleeve, getting told off by his boss to tidy himself up more and having to use his "big guy" vibe to help his co-worker deal with an unruly customer.

❀✦ Master List✦❀

So I have a couple headcanons about this, (And It miight be me projecting but I think it works) 

★

I don’t think Barley goes to college, not that he’s just taking a year off. (Maybe that’s how it starts though). 

I think he probably doesn’t think he’s ‘college material’ and would rather any school money goes to Ian, who he knows will do so, so well in “Willowdale”. 

And that he spends so much time working to help contribute to the household, he doesn’t think he’d be able to do both.

He tells his mom it’s what he prefers to do anyway... so she wont feel bad- she still does. 

However I can totally see him going to night classes once he’s a little more stable. 

Maybe with his s/o’s encouragement?

★

I’m also married to the idea (mentioned in someone else’s fic) that he works in a garage, as a mechanic. Perhaps just as part of a deal- you can use my stuff to work on your van if you put in x hours a week in the shop.

I’d also see him needing to have more than one job, in which case i’d definitely say retail.  (Maybe a gas station/convince store? )

But also also, I’m not sure he acts like he hates it. 

Barley doesn’t love it, and always comes home exhausted but he generally seems okay when he’s there. 

The bosses/corporate totally suck but he loves his coworkers, always trying to lighten the mood and lend a sympathetic pointed ear. 

(He knows everyone’s relationship problems, and their dirty secrets... and gives the best advice...) 

(I’ve worked with a few boys like this, and they’re a treasure, always making you feel better after a rough day.)

I feel like the bosses will eventually give up about his tattoos or looks, giving in when he proves that keeping him on as a worker is better than losing him over something like a tattoo that’s mostly covered anyway. 

“Look, just hide it when the dm comes in...okay?” 

★

I think he’s a ‘people person’ so he’s probably nice to most of the customers, even if they’re not always nice to him. (A lot aren’t) 

Several of them, he knows by name and will take the time to chat with them. 

They might even complement his buttons which he’d put on his name tag or lapel, whichever works. 

( Another thing his boss gave up arguing about, But the uniform sucks and is really boring... so... )

But as mentioned, Barley loves his coworkers, especially if they were younger and maybe more sensitive to the abuse that seems to be accepted as commonplace in the service industry. 

They’re all his children and you can’t talk to them like that! 

If someone is really causing a problem he’ll step right in. 

First, he’d attempt to mitigate the problem. (Sometimes another person stepping in, especially if they were male, is enough to change the whole tone of an angry customer. )

If they persist, or get nasty, he wont hesitate to tell them to leave, or make them if they wont. 

The things people say (and do) to retail workers... 

He’s not gonna stand by and let this person, whoever they think they are, threaten his girls, or worse...

Barley will call the cops if he has to. (Even if he usually gets hassled by them when they do show) 

Once the customer leaves, he’d do his best to comfort the coworker, and make them smile again.

 No one��s allowed to be sad on his watch!! 

Not if he can help it! 

★

A/N: I’m super sorry if it seems like i’m discounting your headcanons. I don’t mean to... Just thought i’d share mine... Hope they’re okay.... 

[pyrodarknessanny]

Whilst the topic of treating women with  respect is a hot button issue at the moment it got me thinking about my own experiences in life. and whilst I can say that I am one of the lucky ones who’s not been assaulted   things have happened around me that  had they gone differently  my story would be very different indeed. it also saddens me  that I know so many close friends and family who were not so lucky , many of them were children when they were first abused. and yes I do know  “not all men”   but   as the brothers , fathers , uncles , cousins ,friends and co-workers  the weight of this falls on you to call out  the  unacceptable behaviour of your peers. I’m going to list this instances in chronological order. and keep in mind that  I am a  goblin , short, weird , don’t care for looking nice and makeup and such  but still  ive been put on the spot numerus times in the past by  “nice guys”™ high school , senior years .   met some one I thought was decent online . we had an on again off again  video call thing going it spanned years  and started innocently enough  however in the latter years  when I was super depressed it turned quite toxic and manipulative   where he would refuse to   pay attention to me, controlling the calls , there was a time zone difference  so I was up till 4am most nights  hoping that this person would be around.    When we did get into calls  he had me doing  increasingly  dangerous things .   he’d even convinced me to  send him a  substantial amount of money of the last 12 months of our contact.          I’ve since cut them off  cold some years ago now but   they’ve certainly had an impact on me

 In between this on again off again online thing   when I was single I’ve and no less than 3   older male friends  try to hit me up because their  partners at the time were out of town. one even messaged me one night when I was high and tried very hard to convince me that it would be a good idea to drop round.       I don’t talk to any of them now but  each one I told to stay faithful to their partners and denied their offers.    

Also in high school - this happened at my  part time job. boss had a mate who would often sell him stuff for the store ,  bit of a flipper. one of the other senior staff thought it was FUNNY  to tell him that  I was fair game. so this guy who is well in his 40’s   would seek me out at work and harass me. usually when I was at the back of the shop bagging the bulk produce into smaller retail portions. mind you I’m  an 18 yr old autistic person .  had to find excuses to  avoid this person   make it look like im working  in the areas that had security cameras on them or   hope that there were customers so he couldn’t  talk to me.       I had spoken out about this  to the boss and  the owner of the business ( as it was one of his friends)   but they  all thought it was a harmless game. guy bailed me up at the back of the store one afternoon as im bagging  up animal feed.  Store was dead quiet  so not a lot of escape options   I had had enough of it by that point  and put him in his place.   Fortunately  for me he was a little old Asian man  had he of been some one of my dad’s stature  that scenario would have played out MUCH differently.  

Hey now speaking of family! growing up in an abusive household sure dose   wounders for building character huh? im on good talking terms with my family now but growing up  was interesting.

Our house hold was one of hard disciplines.  We didn’t just get smacked we got absolutely belted.

Or our things were broken… actually it was only ever MY things that got trashed out of discipline. my 4 brothers always got off Scott free. Whenever there was a fight or argument ? it was always me that was in trouble  regardless of the circumstance.

Good lessons to teach the kids eh’

My real dad  was off the sceen,  we were more or less raised by our step dad but   when he got an upper management job at his place of work , shit at home  got  bad.    The abuse turned from physical   to psychological .     nothing was ever good enough.   You were always trash  or a disgrace. and praise was only ever given to  the brothers.          So  yeah more good lessons  for  impressionable teens.   shitty ex #1 -  met them at a convention , seamed like a reasonable kind of guy we hit it off and it was great.    Very quickly realised something was off about them. tried very hard to control me .  would say one thing and then do something else entirely. caught them out on numerous lies and on more than one occasion said some very concerning things about minors.       Moments that stand out the most .   was staying at my place for a party , either a birthday or Halloween .   at my house with my family and close friends , had the gall to try and control my behaviour  because  he thought I was being too weird , he did this in front of my mother and best friend.     Another time , it was my birthday and he promised  to buy dinner out . started out as  we would go to this fancy casino restaurant .    ended at a Mc Donald’s with me catching the train home by my self  fuming.     I should have ended that one much sooner than I did but I didn’t want to come across as “mean” or unreasonable  so it let it drag out for another 6 months before I told him to fuck off.

 Dude then proceeded to cyber stalk me and  several friends there after. he was super bad at this and  finaly backed off when I threatened to call the cops. YEET!

 Shitty ex #2 -  technically we only dated for a few weeks decided that it didn’t work for either of us but stayed good friends .        had to tell them  frequently  about what things were and weren’t appropriate  for the friendship afterwards ,    eneded turning into one of the biggest narcicists ive ever seen.

 Miscellaneous things.   Im mentioned before about peer pressure and that its on the boys to call this shit out when they see it. I’ve had  to be the voice of reason for a number of male friends   when they were getting  a bit too obsessed over  girls who had zero interest in them.        One guy in particular  could not leave it alone  , this girl he was white knighting for    was a friend from school , she had a partner but he  swore black and blue that   he could “save her”  from making shitty decisions.     I think he eventually gave up on her when she ripped him off over some digital art that was a trace job and he lost  a good sum of money but   it was disturbing to hear just how obsessed he was with  her.