workin class

I absolutely love the people whom call me at work and say “Speaka Spanish plooz”, or “Can you spick Spanish?”. Okay, first off, I work at USA 800. It’s a call center. We take incoming calls for different accounts such as Yankee Candle, Highlights Catalog for children, and so forth. Now, do you think I speak Spanish? I do live in the United States, after all. Here, we speak slang English. I do not go to Great Britain and expect to hear the words “bloody” or “boot”, and assume they mean the crimson ooze that emerges from your wounded skin, or the things you wear on your feet during the winter or during construction. I enjoy the calls I get for Westwood College and other like colleges, when they ask, in a voice that can barely even speak English, “Do you have to have your high school diploma or GED to attend?” Well, Princess, or Princesa, if you would prefer, I think Step A would be getting your green card first. Ya know, verde? If there’s one thing I am passionate about, other than the south and the extreme stupidity of the human race, it is illegal Mexicans. No. Swim home. If I moved to Germany, I’m pretty positive I would learn some of the German language before going. The thing is, a lot of these calls come in on the EBT Food Stamp line!!! They can’t speak English, yet I am paying taxes out of my paycheck, the check I earn by them calling and asking something ridiculous of me, for them to receive financial help!?!? THAT is ridiculous. Honestly. People like… oh…. I don’t know…. Say my mother. If she got hurt and couldn’t work for a few months, she would probably apply for food stamps. Here’s the catch. She has lived in America her entire life, and has been a WORKING CITIZEN for 30 years. But no, she would more than likely be denied because of my income. She pays the taxes for these Mexicans to eat KC Strip steak, but would barely be able to afford Ramen noodles. How F***KED up is that?! My point exactly. This illegal alien craze has gotten WAY out of hand! There’s a lot more crime now, I have noticed. Especially in the south end of town (due to Triumph), and the government says “well, we can’t find them”. Hey Mister, come here. Let’s take a trip. Allow me to lead you to Pizza Hut on a Friday night where they come in adorned in baseball caps with upper case ‘T’s on them, and don’t even know the English words for “large”, “pepperoni” or even “pizza” for that matter. Let us travel to the local welfare center. Ask for their driver’s license. Yea. I know. That requires too much work. Remember, in American, it is the truck of a car, not el maletero de un coche. In England, it’s a boot. If you go there, learn it. Again, too much work, I know. This brings to mind another good point. America is so fat and lazy it is unbelievable! Don’t get me wrong, I do my fair share of cartoon watching and Mountain Dew drinking, but get real. At least I can effin work 2 jobs, plus go to school. And guess what, I don’t live off welfare. I didn’t get paid to have 3 kids at the age of 14. I don’t blame everything that happens on someone else. Taking some freaking initiative and responsibility for once, damn! You now way 800 lbs, or your daughter is 16, pregnant and running away from home. That’s not your mother’s fault. You can’t put the blame on television and music. It’s not the government’s fault either. It’s your own damn fault. Deal with it. Get off your ass for once, or learn to raise your kids and care more about them than your own cocaine addiction and maybe the world will be a little better off. Again with that stupidity of the human race thing…. Go to McDonald’s or Taco Bell, or Wal-Mart and you’ll see what I mean. I actually think I like illegal aliens a little more than I like people like that. At least they’re working and trying. They would prefer to stab somebody than talk to them in some cases. But it’s the same as Americans. Some work and get by, some do heroine and get killed for not having the dough to pay for it. Those people, I have absolutely no respect for whatsoever. Then I get those druggies on the EBT line at work, who have been issued and “lost” 20 food stamp cards just in the past month. They whine and say that their card is not there, it’s terrible, all our fault and I get the attempted “But my kids are here starving, I have 4 kids. I need my card.” No. Quit selling it for crack. It really just refreshes me when I do get a call and it’s someone who has had ONE card issued to them, and they have been able to keep hold of it for 3 years, but the magnetic stripe is getting worn out on it and that’s the only reason they need a new card. I like those people. They make me want to scream at the others. One man called earlier today, I decided to go into work and get a few extra hours before my 8 AM class, and got the call. He called in on our account called American Tax Relief. He called basically just to go off about irresponsible people, but he did make a good point, and I really wish I could have told him I agreed instead of “I’m sorry” or “Well, is there anything else I can help you with?” but the call was recorded so I couldn’t. If you have $15,000 or more in tax debt, American Tax Relief will help you. Well, for one, how does one accumulate that much in just tax debt alone? Honestly? And, now, so they are just allowed to rack up that much, but they can call this phone number and will only have to pay half of that? Maybe that’s why are economy is so messed up right now. Maybe people should take responsibility for themselves and their actions. Basically, that was his argument. Humans are obscene and ridiculous.

Shift work, hard work
Tired body and a blue collared shirt
And a baseball capUnion made.
He’s hot, sweat drops
Round the clock
The door never locks
And the noise never stops
Night or day.
Workin’Seven to three
Three to eleven
Eleven to seven.
Shift work, touch work
For the busy convenience store clerk
Two feet that hurt
Goin’ insane.
She’s madSome lad drove off
And didn’t pay for his gas
And won’t be the last
‘Round the clock pain.
Workin’
Seven to three
Three to eleven
Eleven to seven.
I’m talking about a bunch of shift work
A big ole pile of shift work.
Seven to three
Three to eleven
Eleven to seven.
Well, I worked
Shift work
For ten years, man I hated that work
Then I made a break with the money I saved
Took me, to the beach
To have a beer by the edge sea
And this ‘round the clock points
I drink my money away
We’d party, seven to three
Three to eleven
Eleven to seven.
I’m talking about a bunch of shift work
A big ole pile of shift work.
Seven to three
Three to eleven
Eleven to seven.
“Shiftwork” by Kenny Chesney