Workplace
Army Life
I can genuinely say I joined the Army to run away from home. I can say it was not for money, not for education. I already had those. All these years, I’ve grown nonetheless, though I still don’t have that thick skin. Went through more abuse than I can handle and rape. My anxiety is worse, depression off the roof. I’m more suicidal than I can imagine, even have about four therapists. My NCO Support channels only care about their numbers though, so they told me to wait till I get out to kill myself.
By Leslie Darling Bini5 years ago in Confessions
Worthy Exhaustion
Pulling an all-nighter upholstering a chair and forcing my scissors to cut through napped fabric has left me with man hands this morning. I hold both of my thumbs up side by side. The left has a perfect curve. I rub my finger down my right thumb, hitting a hard dip. Is this my bone? I feel my left thumb again and compare it to my right. Pinching the skin and pulling... it's just callus. Goodness, I was starting to think I permanently deformed my thumb. I've never taken the time to look at my hands before, but today they are aching something fierce. This must be coming from years of choosing the hard plastic all-purpose scissors that cost $12.99 instead of the $50 shears with the comfortable grip.
By Alicia Acosta5 years ago in Confessions
A marvelous money making day...
8JUN2021; 1915, TUE As I sit sipping this slightly expired, nonalcoholic rosé after a long day of wheeling and dealing, I'm inclined to believe that this one is an intriguing one to say the very least. If I hadn't lived it in the flesh...
By Nefarious Darrius5 years ago in Confessions
Tilt Kettle
Tilt Kettle Chef Smith Henry woke to the sound of his wristwatch alarm. The time read 2:52am. Perfect. He dressed quickly pulling his chef whites over his long limbs, covering his shaggy dark hair in his tall white paper hat and then left his hotel room to walk down the hall to the kitchen. He could smell the beef stock before he stepped on to the tiled floor. He turned on the lights, unlocked the office door, loaded three pens and two soup spoons into the pocket on his upper left arm, closed the door, grabbed the cart full of plastic pails he’d left by the door on his way out last night, then rolled to the tilt kettle.
By Whitney Sweet5 years ago in Confessions
My Drug Addicted Boss Once Tried to Teach Me Acting
I am not a particularly cocky person... At least, not anymore. Admittedly, I used to be a very cocky person. In my first summer away from college, having studied "the art of acting" for two whole semesters, I re-joined a summer stock program for the second year in a row. And let me tell you, I thought I was the shit. Turns out, I was just a piece of shit.
By Andrew Martin Dodson5 years ago in Confessions
Sunergy
I started working here in April 2018. I was hired as an inspection tech for $20/hourly. I thought this was great given my install and inspection experience. On day 1 I already found myself butting heads with my “supervisor” (not my hiring manager). This girl would add additional calls to my schedule with no knowledge or care of what jobs truly needed. She only demanded miracles out of me as she would say: “it HAS to be done today!”
By Blake Edward5 years ago in Confessions
My Inner Writer
I hate the word productive. It was the word my mom used to tell me she was disappointed in my choices. “I wasn’t using my time in a productive manner” or “You should learn to knit, because that would be more productive,” she would say. And so, I have a constant need to feel like I have spent my time wisely and a fear of wasting my time; fear of procrastinating or vegging out, yet I cringe and feel a visceral hatred when I think about being productive. Which is where creative writing, poetry, short stories, and epic DND campaigns, come into play. Writing allows my mind to be free, to wonder, and to create in a way that I feel is productive, without actively thinking I am trying to be so. I didn’t realize writing was such an outlet, until after graduating high school, then it stopped feeling like homework.
By Katherine MacKie5 years ago in Confessions
A Wall of Scissors
I've always been surrounded by sewing. My mother was a seamstress. She made all my clothes, costumes for local theater and vocal groups, and she even made all the choir robes and stoles at my childhood church. She was known as the "sewing lady" around town and heaven forbid that I would touch her beloved Singer sewing machine.
By Patti Wenzel5 years ago in Confessions
The Sky Just Fell. So NOW what?
It became over before it even really started. One day I started working for a publishing company, became a published author through that time while helping thousands of clients with their books. My clients loved me and I loved them. We had a great and growing relationship. Many of them kept coming back and publishing more books. Said they couldn't do the next steps without me. They liked my voice and loved my laugh. I was helpful, I was encouraging and I was a great listener(that's what they always told me).
By Kathy Lester5 years ago in Confessions
