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The seventeenth job I was fired from.

Northern Lights Coffeehouse. (summer c. 2000)

I visibly slacked, I stole food, I trained people wrong on purpose, I called in sick excessively and I clocked in and left to go to class for full shifts.

The best thing about this job was that I stole huge amounts of food so I never had to go grocery shopping. Every day, I drank fresh squeezed orange juice out of the carton.

I played crazy “unlistenable” experimental music when all the customers were trying to study.

Every day, I gave stuff away to people I didn’t even know.

Eventually, my reputation was ruined and I was cut to two three hour shifts and one two hour shift per week.

I pissed in the walk in freezer and watched its daily progression into a yellow block of ice.

I felt bad when aforementioned ice was defrosted by the only half cool manager. This new manager came and I had to chill out because he was too cool to mess with. This was after my post-museum company revelation that I was, more or less, a horrible person, so I just worked way less but was still equally unreliable.

Finally, after a night of excessive drinking, I woke up at 5am to puke all over myself in the shower while getting ready to open the café. I called in sick but they told me to never come back so I fell back into bed.

Later that day I called a friend for help because I was so hung over I thought I was going to die. Luckily she brought over a loaf of bread and a gallon of Gatorade.

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