#survivinghelloneshiftatatime

Most people hate their jobs, but at least they can quit. Me? Nah. My boss owns my fucking soul. Can’t call out sick, can’t put in my two weeks, hell, I can’t even take a bathroom break without him ‘checking in.’ And by ‘checking in,’ I mean showing up out of nowhere like a smiling cryptid and asking if I’m ‘enjoying myself.’

No, Alastor, I’m not.

And listen, I get it, he owns my soul. Fine, whatever. But maybe we can renegotiate a few things? Like, I don’t know, hours? Or basic respect? Or maybe a clause that says he can’t hum creepy radio jingles behind me while I’m working? Just a thought.