Breakdown! · 4:19pm Oct 31st, 2021

It's been a wild, wacky ride these last few weeks, gang, and it'll be long before the ride slows. However, instead of immediately catching you up on the depressing affairs of the last while, I would like to open with a couple of photos.

These were taken yesterday at Niagara Falls for the Fear Falls convention. Conventions will always be the epitome of life. Where you and others get together to celebrate the material that makes your life giddy. I wish I have been more around at Bronycon to drink in its fun.

You never realize how important something is until it's gone.

So! I'm trying to get into the habit of being more active. Snapping more photos—selfies, even—damn who would quirk an eyebrow at it. The goal is to have fun and to look like a fool. So below are a couple of pictures snapped from the event.

A catch-up blow will follow below it.

Cheers!

This current job I have will be the first distant job I'll have over the winter. This means that I'll need a car to reach it. Most already know the stress I went through to get my G2. After that, buying a car was harder. A friend of the family offered to sell me his a month ago and, despite working everything out around that time, buddy didn't get anything done until weeks after my license.

It's cold in Canada. Driving an hour, at 5 AM, on a motorcycle on a frozen highway sucks.

It's often when you're deprived and backed into a corner that you make the most foolish of mistakes.

After looking at a couple of cars after that—then finding something wrong about them—I decided to go to a Honda Dealership to see what cars they might have. I debated getting the new civic as, if I bought the car and took care of it well, I wouldn't have to play the stressful game of Find Out What The Fuck IS Wrong with It!

My stepmother had bought a van from the dealership, used, at around 8K. It worked for several months—before everything in it blew. It nearly caused a couple of accidents: and cost another 8K to repair it. Sitting at 16K, with a potential for more to go wrong, she wished she had bought new.

So I went and talked with the associate there; I didn't know the golden rule of never going to a dealership alone. He spoke to me about the car, and I liked it. I wasn't sure I would get approved for the loan, however. I could put a decent chunk down for the car. However, I wasn't sure I'd get approved.

I wanted to see if I would get approved or not and, if I didn't, just go for the used Civics they had there. Buddy said he could do that and got me to sign a few things. You sign so much shit in your life. I thought it was just intent to purchase that vehicle if you got approved.

Sure enough, I walked into the finance office, and the lady congratulated me on the car. I went on with the song and dance with confusion on when I would know if I would get approved. Usually, I do my research, but I didn't read up on this type of thing since I just walked in to check cars out.

I thought I could still go home and do some reading.

Turns out everyone gets approved, at worst rates if their credit is bad, and that the dealership will give cars to everyone and take it back when they can't pay. I was always going to get approved. Everyone does. Thankfully, I did so at a good rate.

I went home and thought about it and decided, no, what the fuck, buy the used car, have it looked at and take the hit if something goes wrong. I called the dealership back to say that I didn't want the car and that I would forfeit the 1K deposit. They said that I was on contract to buy the car, and that I had to buy the car.

I could sell the car to someone else afterward or trade it come next year. There was no getting out from the purchase. I kick myself for it now for singing shit so easily. That's my fault. That's the cowardice in me. I didn't think to say let me take a day to think about it. Or be warier about signing shit.

Later that evening, in dealing with that purchase, my grandparents' house burned down.

They're okay.

But they lost everything they had.

I still haven't been able to go and see them due to the lack of a car.

They live two hours up north, and that trip is too much for me to take in the cold and on the bike. A couple of years ago, and I would have been fine. Now, however, I'm weaker. Lack of spirit? Maybe. Guess I don't believe in myself to push myself to beat shit like that anymore.

I now have a car that I don't really need that costs more than I should ever pay for. I should have enough to pay for it and my daily living and be decently alright. Now I'm more focused on trying to make money on the side, though.

At the very worst, I can sell the car next year and take a hit. But then I'll be out of debt.

I got punched at work the other day. It wasn't too bad. Buddy jumped out from his truck and, charging toward me, struck my chest with his fist. I shoved him back and prepared to swing—but waited. If I had swung right away: then I would have been in the clear. But since he hadn't swung again yet, I couldn't strike and claim it fair.

Our work has been a shit show. This is due to poor management, low supply, and terrible communications. My job is supplying stores and job sites with construction equipment and surveying the status of equipment being repaired. I need to manage low resources to both provide to all these sites and have enough on the shelf to supply to our own.

Drivers will come into my office if they have anything to pick up and where to drop it off. Who our Site Contact is and whatnot. I tell them what they're taking and to who. With frequent drivers, I know who they are and where they're going.

For drivers I haven't met before—well, I don't know what you're taking if I don't know who you are.

I'm in my office, doing my work, when this fellow busts through the door. His face has an attitude, and I sigh internally. I tilt my head up. "What's up?"

"You know what I'm here for?"

I blink. "I don't even know who you are."

"Sounds about right."

Then he left.

I shrug and don't think twice. I go over to move some hoists for an upcoming order when my lady friend at work is tucked away in the corner. She's been sick the whole week due to brochettes, feeling bad for missing work and coming in anyway. She can't breathe and is having a panic attack.

I hold her hand and try to calm her down. She can't breathe and feels like shit for having to leave. Eventually, our manager comes, a giant, soft teddy bear, and gets her to her car. She drives to the hospital and is there for the day.

She and I have been close these last couple of months; she's one of the few parts of the job that makes it worthwhile. I missed out on one leaving hugs when she needed it. I made it up to her by buying a plushie elephant named Squish. She keeps it next to her computer every day.

It helps us both get through the days.

I returned to pushing hoists when Mike, our warehouse guy, walked to me with a tag. "Do I give this to you to transfer to him?" I look, and it's the same guy who barged into my office earlier; I look back at Mike. "I don't even know this guy."

So I go up to him. "Hey... who are you? What's your name?"

He glares at me. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life." He tilts his head up. "Who I am and what my name is are two different things. Why would you even ask me that?"

"Well, could you tell me anyway?"

"Which one?"

"Who you are?"

"You don't want to know my name first?"

"What's your name?"

"You don't know my name?"

"Could you tell me?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

That's when I decided to play it funny.

"Well, if I'm left to guess, then I guess who you are is a dickhead," I started, "and that can be your name while we're at it. But I can shorten it to D if you like." I chuckle. "But seriously. What's wrong? What's causing you to have a bad day?"

Buddy bumps my chest and laughs in my face. We're inches apart, and I don't know what he's going to do. "Seriously. Who hurt you?"

Then he laughs and walks off. "Yo! This guy's a classic!"

I yell after him. "I can't be a classic! I'm too young for that."

Then I look back to Mike and the assistant of the Dickhead. "Seriously. Who is that guy?"

"That's Will."

"What's he here for?"

"We dunno."

Fuck's sake.

None of the managers heard anything about it. I call Kyle, my brother-in-law and manager of the fleet. I tell him what's happened and if he knows anything about what's supposed to be picked up. "No, I don't have anything. But Will is usually a good guy. He's just having a really rough day. Be the bigger man and do whatever he needs you to do."

"I'm not in the habit of being a good person," I reply, "but I'll do so on your behalf."

Inflection is hard to deliverer in text. I said all of the above in a joking, fucking around tone. I assure you I'm not a red and black alicorn OC in real life. Anywhere, after that conversation, I head back to the computer—and find an email from Heaters.

We have six orders for them. Heating equipment for various sites. If buddy had come in and said, "Oh, my name is Will, I'm here to pick up the 96 units." Then everything would be cleared. So I go and get the order ready. Mike hops on the forklift.

I walk out to the truck and buddy is on his phone.

"Hey! So we figured out what you're here for: the 96 units to Job Site [??]." He keeps on his phone and doesn't even glance my way. His assistant looks to be in a rough spot. "We've got it all ready to go. All you have to do is open the back of your truck, and we'll even load it in for you."

Buddy still does nothing as his assistant looks at him for what they're supposed to do.

I keep standing there for a good few. I need this truck open. We have a forklift waiting to put his stuff in.

Then I went back to talking. "Listen. I talked to Kyle, and he says you're an amazing guy having a bad day. So sorry if I pushed your buttons back there. But getting in my face and shit? Don't do that shit again."

I turned and walked away and heard buddy yell at me for where I was going. I turned to see him hopping down the truck and charging toward me. He punches my chest, and I shove him back before he can throw a second. He whips himself at me and we shove each other around.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" I yelled at him.

"No fucking bitch ass fucking loser fucking tells me what the fuck to do."

"Your mother must have fuckin' taught you manners real fucking well!" I shove him back. "You know this is assault, right? What the fuck are you doing, man?"

We push and shove each other around for a bit. I wait for him to throw the next punch before I can whip him down to the floor. He doesn't do it and, as this shit continues on, two people, one a manger, watches and does nothing.

And even as panic settles within, I still run my mouth like how I usually do.

I don't turn my back to leave because I don't want a fist to the back of the head.

Finally, buddy turns away, gets back in his truck.

"Just fuckin' go the fuck back to work."

"Work?" I linger. "I don't work. I just pretend to work!"

"Then go back to fucking doing that!"

I shrug and turn and walk away.

"Fucking loser!"

I stopped and turned back around. "Loser? We're both working at Stephenson's: we're both fucking losers!" I laugh and continue walking away.

"Yeah! They're going to be real fucking happy, hearing that."

I go to my other manager and, even though he already has it rough, I report the assault with a chuckle. My other manager walks up in surprise. "That was for real? I thought the two of you were joking around!"

I squint.

How the fuck do you take a punch to the chest as a joke?

But, knowing how I was joking and running my mouth, I guess I could kinda see how it played that way. They contact the buddy's manager. But the one manager pulls me aside. "Listen. This is what's going to happen. He's going to go back and get a slap on the wrist—and nothing is going to get done about this. Take it to HR for something to happen."

The day worsens. The boys and I laugh at the event and whatnot, but even as I'm chuckling, I'm thinking that this shit happened at work. Both witnesses at both instances backed up what I said, so the other guy is the aggressive party.

But it's hard to blame the guy. Heaters have been really shit this year. I hear nothing but great things from everyone about him. Apparently, this is the first time this has happened, but this is our company's worst period.

I always made the joke that I'm like the Devil: because I bring out the worst in everybody. I say it in self-deprecating jest, but I don't see it escalating the same way when I think of others being in my situation. I could have walked away sooner—but I needed to find out what buddy was here for.

And when I went to his truck, I was nothing but sincere, and all I asked was for him not to get in my face again. Him getting triggered by that statement... I don't know. Should you just say nothing at all? Not stand up for yourself because of what it may evoke?

Other people would leave it be. Just say open the back of your truck and walk away. But then I would feel like shit for not saying to not get in my face and shit. It's tough. Unless I'm pushed there, I won't be a dickhead. I'm only a dickhead in response.

Buddy was the aggressive party—and I matched him in witty aggression.

But now I still have to decide where I want to bring this. I'm going to wait until later in the week if I'm going to report this to HR or not. The job itself has been shit. Our tools are catching fire in the client's hands. We get emails from salespeople who make six figures by making promises they can't keep and telling those beneath them to 'just make it happen.'

We don't have enough units to send out. The company won't buy more units because we can repair the broken ones we have. But we can't repair the broken ones because parts are on backorder due to Covid. They want us to cancel orders we promised to sites and give them to other ones—and we're the ones that have to take the call and make the emails.

And they ask this of us in a banal text that bleeds the eyes and is nearly impossible to read. I told the salesperson the full extent that we will supply what we can—but that our online inventory isn't accurate. We show 15 units—but only two work. And both are on hold for a client already.

I get a message to 'put on my big boy pants and make it happen.'

Everyone there hates the job. Clients come back in and yell about tools that barely work. Salespeople focus on the people and not the problem below them. And our company rolled out a policy about the five principles about 'caring' instead of proper management.

If the people around and above us are proper, and understand what we're going through, and actually believe in the stuff they preach—then they would too. But when their talks of being 'clear, simple, and respectable' is met by emails barely readable and disrespectful to the person reading it... why the fuck would I ever believe in anything you have to preach?

All availbe units have to be AVAILBE to our TFM customros

(What the fuck even is that?)

Again. The units might show avaibalbe. But they're broken. Waiting on parts. And we don't even have the staff to install them. Half of our mechanics don't have degrees. All you need is one certified mechanic in a building for others to do repairs even if they didn't pass high school.

Stop complaining. Put on your big boy pants and make this happen.

I noticed, though, that once I insulted the fellow—he learned to write properly.

And that's been me lately. Foolishly signed to buy a car that I really don't need and dealing with mental and psychical anguish at my job. I might have another, a better job lined up, but it'll take some time. It's with the government. However, they have a hiring freeze at the moment.

So now I have to wait until that's over; the other half of my family works there, so hopefully, I can snag a way in. But it also means having to stay at my current job. If it weren't for the car, I would have handed in my two weeks. I've worked various jobs over the years. However, I've never had one like this.

And the truth is that I don't know what to do. I don't know what the fuck is going to happen Monday. Everyone is miserable at work. Will I get into another fight? Will I have to do more than shove someone? If I can mentally detach, maybe, I could handle it better.

Maybe I can be a delivery driver in my car. I love to drive, at the very least. I'd much rather be doing that than anything else. Maybe I should quit and go on EI? I've worked my whole life and had a quarter of my pay pumped into that.

I'm just waiting for the day that breaks me, but the choices you make while broken aren't the wisest as I learned with the car. I thought about doing a Fundme to quit my job and be safe while I look for the next one. But people worse off than I need that help more.

I'd rather write and work as much as I can to float myself long before it came to that.

But... I got to hang with the boys yesterday, and that was nice. It lifted me a bit. I'm unsure if it lifted me enough to deal with the week ahead.

I hope that you are well. That life goes along comfortably for you. It might be boring—that steady, samey life. But you cherish it so much in periods of chaos where nothing is ever the same. I know it's selfish of me to ask. But it's always been the one thing I've asked of all of you over the years.

Please be well.
~ Yr. Pal, B

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bronyparty15

bronyparty15 #1 · Oct 31st, 2021 · · 1 ·

Well we are here for you but please just take any time you need for yourself, take care of you.

PropMaster

PropMaster #2 · Oct 31st, 2021 · · 1 ·

That's a hell of a story. Your humor played through it, and I know it's causing you pain, but I had a chuckle or two at your quips. I hope that's the worst of it you get, and the job gets less stressful. Hang in there, B.

Themaskedferret