Breakpoint approached. Something's got to give. How shallow can a shallow grave be?

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My wife is crying. Not because of my behavior for a change. ;)

Kidding. She's been unhappy for 3+ years at her workplace, which is an institution where they park old and/or broken humans. She used to work patient facing in a doctors office until the practice shut down for age reasons. Now her job is to keep what are called 'residents' happy, occasionally drive them to doctor's appointments, take care of odds and ends for them and probably a whole lot of crap I don't know about.

What I do know about, and what counts iMO, is that her bosses are greedy fucks. They 'staff' the place with the cheapest foreign work force they can find. Barely able to communicate because they're, well, fresh off the boat. North Africans with a chip on their shoulder re any female. Eastern Europeans, partly not worth the green card they rode in on, partly competent but unable to speak the language. Point is, this has been going on for far too long and I can tell that she's unhappy. Let me rephrase that. She HATES HER JOB, But she loves those helpless people living there. There's this one gal. She had a bad accident and is brain damaged af. All she can verbally utter is her own name and "here". It's enough to drive you insane. Until one day she learned my wife's name. Never before and never after, was this little vegetable able to utter ANYTHING but her own Name and "here". When my wife shows up and she sees her, she has a fit of happiness.

And that's how most people working in that sort of job get fucked fucked fucked. Not always but def in this case, the money changers look at the operation like a machine and try to optimize for the best return of investment, humanity, empathy, all that shit be damned.

Men don't get Women, I'm aware of that. I mean we kind of do but not really, not in all the subtleties. My wife is one sad puppy and that makes me angry because it's an unnecessary shituation. And it's been going on for far too long.

I've found out the names of those greedy fucks. I will find out where they live. And live is what they must. Knowing that when they let me out, they'll be the first ones to know.

A good talking to with a hood over their face and some broken face bones might not suffice. Regrettable accidents might not. I've worked all my life. All of it. That's a bunch of years. No sabbaticals, just some weeks after I was cut very widely open.

So here we are. Strangely, I don't feel quite as murderous as when I started this post. Her tears were fresher then. Mine too.

My wife is crying. Not because of my behavior for a change. ;) Kidding. She's been unhappy for 3+ years at her workplace, which is an institution where they park old and/or broken humans. She used to work patient facing in a doctors office until the practice shut down for age reasons. Now her job is to keep what are called 'residents' happy, occasionally drive them to doctor's appointments, take care of odds and ends for them and probably a whole lot of crap I don't know about. What I do know about, and what counts iMO, is that her bosses are greedy fucks. They 'staff' the place with the cheapest foreign work force they can find. Barely able to communicate because they're, well, fresh off the boat. North Africans with a chip on their shoulder re any female. Eastern Europeans, partly not worth the green card they rode in on, partly competent but unable to speak the language. Point is, this has been going on for far too long and I can tell that she's unhappy. Let me rephrase that. She HATES HER JOB, But she loves those helpless people living there. There's this one gal. She had a bad accident and is brain damaged af. All she can verbally utter is her own name and "here". It's enough to drive you insane. Until one day she learned my wife's name. Never before and never after, was this little vegetable able to utter ANYTHING but her own Name and "here". When my wife shows up and she sees her, she has a fit of happiness. And that's how most people working in that sort of job get fucked fucked fucked. Not always but def in this case, the money changers look at the operation like a machine and try to optimize for the best return of investment, humanity, empathy, all that shit be damned. Men don't get Women, I'm aware of that. I mean we kind of do but not really, not in all the subtleties. My wife is one sad puppy and that makes me angry because it's an unnecessary shituation. And it's been going on for far too long. I've found out the names of those greedy fucks. I will find out where they live. And live is what they must. Knowing that when they let me out, they'll be the first ones to know. A good talking to with a hood over their face and some broken face bones might not suffice. Regrettable accidents might not. I've worked all my life. All of it. That's a bunch of years. No sabbaticals, just some weeks after I was cut very widely open. So here we are. Strangely, I don't feel quite as murderous as when I started this post. Her tears were fresher then. Mine too.

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