This terrible, come-mierda of a man came into work today. He was adamant he knew all there was to know about plants, flowers specifically, and thought it was perfectly okay to talk down to me the entire time. I can't really say that I'm an expert. I'm not. I'm not at all, but I'm not an idiot either. I don't like being treated like an idiot. I think he mistook my discomfort for something else because he started rolling his eyes and scoffing at me. Anger is terrible, I don't like feeling it. But then he started to demand someone else help him. Someone who knew more. I tried to be polite, I tried to assure him that I could help. Then he asked me what made me think I could help him.
I told him
I told him that I was a flower.
Why would I tell him that? Why would IThat's not even true.Technically.
Actually, I yelled it. I think I lost my temper because I was shouting at him in both English and Spanish. Do you think he could have understood Spanish? He must have. I think he did because I kept all of my worst thoughts to SpanishThey were horrible, horrible wordsI can't believe I
Is this some sort of joke? Why is everyone crying?
I didn't mean to make him cry.Al revés de los cristianos.
[LAURA SCHREIBER.] Can IIs it okay
Could you take my shift for tomorrow? [...] I'll trade it, pick up any of your's that you'd rather not work.
I'm sorry II'm to embarrassed to go back tomorrow.
[MAL.] Are you finding it impossible to lie? I think I might