Getting up early isnt a problem, even if I know that I am facing a day of being looked at like I'm a complete fuck wit. Alarm rings, and I might hit the sleep button a couple of times just to make sure I totally awake for the task ahead. I always see the footage of rockstars having to sit in a dark room and pep themselves up for their performance as they can't disapoint their fans. Well I do much the same, except the room is dark because I don't want to wake up my wife and kids who also sleep in the same bed. I have grown to appreciate the feel of the polyester based pants I have worn for years complete with an array of old cotton shirts either from my school days or on long term loan from my dads closet. Without my expertise in feeling fabrics the light would have to go on and I would already be getting told off. I normally like to give that pleasure to my first customer. So I have the dark room and the groupies, Im just missing the insents and pictures of budda that get shipped from city to city for our beloved rockstars.
I used to ask myself ' what else can I do?' there must be another thing I can do instead'. I am surely smarter than this. When I started my job nearly a decade ago I was just greatful to be earning some cash and not having to ask for handouts. I would try and save as much each week so as I could hopefully buy an expensive entertainment appliance every now and again. Things have certainly changed on the saving front as there is no electrical appliances, just personal security knowing that I am growing all closer to the great australian dream. Yes owning a home, a quite lovely orange bricked overgrown with weeds one, complete with water feature. Well thats coming when backyard blitz decide to do me a good turn. Ill just write a letter saying I'm a basketcase (aka lazy fuck who doesn't want to work on his home) in an attempt to bring a tear to Jamie Durie's face, get my mum to sign it and count to three there is a water feature. Once this house is payed off it will be time to call Mr Delphin or Simmons and ask him to build me a cardboard home next to a man made lake. I can then appear in a commercial and lie out of my arse saying how happy I am having to walk for three hours to get a litre of milk. No I can't do that as I would have to ask for more hours at work....no no no. I would have to disturb a serious meeting of young men supposedly running a supermarket while they discuss the female talent in the deli. Even the grand pubar of the water buffalo tribe Barney and Fred attended in the flintstones, got more done.
Its still an hour to go before I must leave and on goes the television. Its actually a good pep up tool before going to what we think is hell. Before breakfast I am dreading work, sooking about how fucked my life is. However seeing footage of the world warming up without an off switch and wars fought over stuff to make the world warmer give me a bit of temporary relief. Now that I am convinced my work is not that bad breakfast is downed and its off to the employment facility where the customer is always right. Well so Ive been told by anyone not getting exactly what they want whilst attempting to enjoy the supermarket experience.
The exact place that the supermarket experience starts has been debated for years. Some experts in the field believe it is when your eyes are captivated by the huge neon lights telling everyone that the beast has its mouth open. While others believe it is when you walk through the large automated sliding doors, much like Darth Vader entering the imperial battleship. This is a debate that will rage for a long time, although when I walk through those doors its much like the beaten wife returning to her husband for more. Sometimes they open for lonely persons seeking interpersonal contact with sub humans such as myself and sometimes for the imperial clones answering to the title of supemarket management. Due to the chain smoking that occours just outside the main doors, the analogy of the rockstar continues as I walk through the smoke machine and onto the stage.
