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@shitjethrosays

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Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.
At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.
At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.
“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.
The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.
I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.
I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.
I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.
I’m not worth the cost of a watch.
i wrote this while i was working at orlando’s walt disney world parks.
i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.
as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.
disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.
at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.
i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.
i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.
we are both worth more than the watch, anyway.
while jamming my entire body between two closing elevator doors today, i was met with wide eyes, and i thought to myself "this probably looks frightening to people that don't have a thorough technical understanding of how elevators work and the history behind why they are so insanely safe"
and then i remembered the story of the tenured civil engineering professor who, with a running start, would leap and throw himself full-force at skyscraper windows in order to demonstrate their structural properties, until one day the window popped out of the frame, unbroken of course, and he fell to his death
The most likely way to die "in" an elevator is to step into the open shaft when no lift is there.
while jamming my entire body between two closing elevator doors today, i was met with wide eyes, and i thought to myself "this probably looks frightening to people that don't have a thorough technical understanding of how elevators work and the history behind why they are so insanely safe"
and then i remembered the story of the tenured civil engineering professor who, with a running start, would leap and throw himself full-force at skyscraper windows in order to demonstrate their structural properties, until one day the window popped out of the frame, unbroken of course, and he fell to his death
while jamming my entire body between two closing elevator doors today, i was met with wide eyes, and i thought to myself "this probably looks frightening to people that don't have a thorough technical understanding of how elevators work and the history behind why they are so insanely safe"
and then i remembered the story of the tenured civil engineering professor who, with a running start, would leap and throw himself full-force at skyscraper windows in order to demonstrate their structural properties, until one day the window popped out of the frame, unbroken of course, and he fell to his death

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it's extremely funny reading historical accounts of Spontaneous Human Combustion because it follows the normal historical trend of other 1800s paranormal phenomena where it stopped happening as much right around the time cameras were invented and stopped happening entirely when everyone started carrying mini cameras in their pockets, but unlike most others of its ilk, it was effectively replaced by this mysterious phenomena where alocoholics would spill liqour on themselves and then fall asleep smoking a cigarette and turn into a fireball. nobody knows if these two things are related
Bear religion probably fucking rocks. You're a fucking bear, you're the deadliest thing on earth, once a year an endless supply of salmon just flings itself up the river to gorge on and then you nap for 3 months.
The most delicious food in the world is protected by tiny demons who can defend it from everyone except you. Your natural armor is thick enough that you can just eat the damn hive while they buzz around you. God's chosen animals right there
Regular bears tell stories of angel bears sent by the Bear God, pure white and twice as strong as any normal bear could be, who rule the summit of the Earth and kill all who stand in their path.
And they are right, those bears exist and totally do that. Humans just have fake angels as a cope.
love the idea of bears being the chosen species actually. having a near death experience and glimpsing heaven and realising it's just full of bears, no humans at all, humans not ensouled actually, humans an accidental byproduct of God's plan for bears
You listen to music regularly? Why? Have you even tried quitting? Could you quit? You get music stuck in your head? Wow. You're so ruined and music brained. I bet you make your partners listen to music with you when you have sex. Music addiction has really ruined a whole generation. You know it's not realistic to expect reverb in real life, right? You're probably so desensitized that you don't even feel anything anymore when you hear a bird singing that it wants some fuck.
I don't have a problem with people listening to music per se, but I do have a problem with the music industry exploiting & mistreating artists.
Personally, I abstain from all music in order to keep my hands clean but really music should just be illegal outright to protect musicians from abuse.
holy shit this person in the notes
No matter how stupid the strawman, someone on tumblr dot com will appear to fill the role
there's literally nothing more radical in 2026 than believing that humanity can become good news for each other and the only world we'll ever share.
Saving the tags.

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miffy with a pearl earring i adore you
has anyone figured out how to turn off the thing where you love your pet so much it slides inexorably into grief-borrowing
“For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”
Don’t be so afraid of loss that you never engage with love.
This gurgling, curdle-furred Muppet was diagnosed with stage III kidney disease at 7, at which point it seemed likely he would live only another couple of years. I knew his breed was prone to it, and that he was not ethically bred, when I adopted him, and did so assuming that he would develop CKD from the jump. He did. And that is how it felt. Of course. So every year after that was stolen time, and he lived to an improbable 14+ years. The entire time, I held him lightly, knowing I was going to have to let him go. It made those years really good. I really cherished them. I am grateful for them and for what they taught me.
Losing him was expected, and an easy transition. Losing his two brothers unexpectedly within the same week was horrific. I am still broken even two years later. My boyfriend is still broken. Their baby sister is still broken. The anticipatory grief towards her, my bright little star, our Fancy, is bone-crushing at times, because those final moments are crowded so near, still. I am struggling mightily with it. I cry often. I am Very Afraid.
All I can say I've learned, after having our lives torn apart:
Make their lives, every day, good lives. Keep them in fresh food and water, keep them clean. Every day make sure their eyes are bright for at least an hour, all told. If they cry, learn to understand, and tend them. Check on their paws, ears, and mouths regularly. Try to teach them tricks. Show them new things often. If they interfere with something of yours, let them have it or give them something like it of their own. Leave a place beside you, always. If they misbehave, do not punish the behavior -- address the underlying need, it is valid. Play. Love. Gentle hands. Soft voices. Do not turn away during the times you are tired or frustrated or do not know how to fix something. Do something. Know that they are living things with interiority and feelings, and they have an image and an idea of you that encompasses how you sound and smell how you touch them, that they have an understanding of what you are like as a person, and they have no choice but to be with you, so make that person a good one. If you feel that you aren't very good and don't know what you are doing, keep trying. Ask for help if you need to.
This should be you:
A being guided by love even when he had literally no idea what was going on.
The best balm for borrowed grief is to simply do your very best, every day.
It'll break you sometimes anyway. But to that, also, I say: of course.
he seems to be doing a pretty good job tbh
prev dont leave this in the tags
Literally the definition of imperialism and classism. Doesn’t matter how many peasants you sacrifice as long as the most powerful piece is left standing
Proximity of bishops to the rulers promotes theocratic oppression
the horse is so fuckable
most fuckable chess peice
Pawn
Rook/castle
Knight/horsey
Bishop
King
Queen
The Odyssey but retold as a low-stakes modern adventure of one guy out with his girlfriend leaving the bar with his buddies to do just one (1) simple thing real quick, it'll take like 15 minutes tops, he'll be right back, but then some bullshit happens and the trip keeps getting more complicated as more bullshit keeps happening while he just tries to get back to the bar because he promised his girlfriend that he'd get back and he knows that she's still there because she told him she'd wait there.
And by the time he finally gets back it's almost 3 am and the bar is about to close while she's sitting there stone cold sober, surrounded by 5 drunk guys unsuccessfully trying to convince her to give up on waiting for him and go home with one of them instead. And the guy shows up to proceed to beat the shit out of them before explaining himself to her like hey sorry bullshit kept happening, my phone fell into a storm drain and my wallet got stolen when I was trying to find someone who'd borrow me a phone so I could call and
His girlfriend had been fending off the 5 drunk guys for most of the evening by explaining that even if she was going to ditch her boyfriend, she can't possibly leave without finishing her beer, which she is keeping perpetually full via careful sleight of hand where she's just pouring it back and forth into and out of the pitcher.
However the drunk guys are also drinking, and eventually she can't afford to buy another pitcher for the table so she can't keep up the ever-full beer glass trick. At this point she has to resort to setting up the pool trick shot that she's never seen anyone but her boyfriend pull off, and says she'll leave with whoever manages the shot first.
That buys her another hour or so and then, finally, her boyfriend makes it back. He looks like shit, hair down and just a mess, he's wearing an entirely different jacket that he got from an alley, and barely recognizable—especially to 5 guys who've been drunk for hours now. He lurks for a minute, finds out what's going on, and proceeds to pull off the trick shot first try. Throws the jacket off, fixes his hair with a hair tie his girlfriend lends him, finally looks like himself again, and THEN beats the shit out of them with the pool cue.
yuh i was there, that's how it happened

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