I'm not even back in the same town as the BAM, but I can feel the 'i hate BAM' bile boiling up in the back of my throat..its a bit like vomit, only worse. So, during the summer, I was told that I could work cafe if i wanted when i came back. And for mopping HUMAN SHIT off the walls of the bathroom, i'd get a raise. (A whopping 50 cents! and i'll still make less starting than i do at my new job in f-burg!) So I applied, as I have to do every winter and summer, and called them and gave them my availability and sat back, confident that i wouldn't have to answer any retarded "do you have that book...you know, by that guy?" questions.

Too much faith in the BAM.

Today, I get a call from my manager. No hours in the cafe, but plenty on the bookside. Woo-fucking-hoo. I love insane book christmas shoppers. No mention of the dinero, either. Who wants to bet that she's going to pay me the same starting salary that i've made for the past TWO years?

I fucking hate this job. Seriously. HATE. It was getting bad when I left, but I can only imagine how much it will suck with no Sam or Cole. I don't really want to work for someone who will keep certian associates on payroll who are constantly late, who piss off customers, and are generally incompetent, but will fire Sam for being late once. Well...more than once, but never when it matters, and her lack of timeliness is part of her charm, really. Like other managers never duck out early...nobody can prove it cause they are salary!

But. I need the money. Part of me wants to go home and just sit on my rear end for a month. I am in dire need of a true break from everything. But, unless a willing donor would like to pay me to do so, i'm stuck. Bookside at the BAM. At least I know that there's a snowball's chance in hell that i'll go back, so I'm under no pressure to do good work. Or any work at all. I mastered the art of "busy looking procrastination" under the master.