I know it sounds like I'm on the complaining warpath again, but really I'm not (this time). I simply want to give chase to something of considerable meaning. The dry aristocratic, even fatherly tone held by the boss-man had me astounded to my core earlier today. I'm a 35-year-old boy I thought, and that's why I don't need to handle every situation. It's not within my power nor does it have to be. I said "This lady came in with a bank-roll today." The 20's lay on the counter and there were about 35 of them, which is not usual in a change-poor station such as that.
"cONcentRATE on WhAT yOUr'E dOiNG" came the deranged, psychotic voice.
"Well alright, I thought; but the cutting tone of that example held me in a kind of orbit. How could it not? It's a form of hypnosis. It's supposed to be. There you are, engaging in a joke and trying to bring the boss-man on-board, maybe he'll laugh you think, but no, there he goes, his beard wagging with razors. What am I going to do? I'm not psychotic, so naturally, I'm going to think it's all my fault. I've had a psychotic-abusive stepfather. It used to break me. But not anymore. I came home and I lay down and let the poison seep out of me.
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