It’s All Downhill From Here, Kid

I’m at work, working the donor door at a thrift shop. I’m running around sorting and taking donations while an eighteen-year-old kid is moving at a snail’s pace.

Me: “Move faster; we need to clear out some space on the floor.”

Eighteen-Year-Old: “Why are you such a b****?”

I stop.

Me: “Why can’t you do your d*** job?”

Our manager, who has been on the other side sorting stuff, addresses my coworker.

Manager: “Clock out. And do not ever speak to her like that again.”

I loved him that day! Two days later, the kid left for lunch and never came back. I didn’t care. If you are eighteen and healthy and an asthmatic thirty-year-old and a diabetic fifty-eight-year-old can kick your butt after a month, reassess your life.