Merry Christmas.

Ah, the fun times of working in a pub leading up to Christmas. I have to work all weekend (32 hours in 3 days) and serve people who are rude, patronising, egocentric twats.

It might be "your Christmas day" but that does not mean that I can pull crackers out of my arse, perhaps next time you should ring up beforehand to let us know your requirements or bring your own.

Yes, I know more than three of you ordered the turkey, but I haven't mastered balancing plates on my head just yet so you'll have to wait for me to go back to get the rest.

No, I cannot take a drinks order right now, unfortunately those people over there want their food; which I happen to be carrying; before it goes cold.

Soup? Who ordered the soup? Who the fuck is David?

We're closed, yes that does mean I can't get you any drinks. Not even a small one.

I'm so sorry you had to wait 10 minutes for your coffee. I did only have to make 20 all at them same time. I'm surprised they haven't sacked me.

Merry fucking Christmas to you too.

No thanks.

I never did go for that drink with Biker, it was all set up and arranged, we were going for a drink after work at a pub. Then he text me and said he thought it would be best if I just went around his. I'm sure it would be. For him. I personally have never been a fan of going over to a strangers house with no one else there. I prefer not to be murdered. So thanks, but no thanks. Dammit, I deserve a drink at least. How cheap does he think I am?


Besides it's not really about him, it's totally about this other boy. If only I could figure out how he felt about me, I might be brave enough to do something about it.

Could you imagine how horrible things would be if we always told others how we felt? Life would be intolerably bearable.
Randy K. Milholland