But I’m here. Hoping that will change, but I progress backward to my first job, at the grocery store. I remember Mom telling me they called, that they were interested in me, and I was so joyed, spacially gleed. Need sleep– coffee, oh how I can’t wait for you. And I was fired from that first job. What does that say about me, the Bottled Ox? That I’m unemployable? That I’m flawed? That I’m immature? No.
I’m sure you know what it says.