IV.
There is nothing redeeming about this place. I always feel like I'm in a prison. The windows are all barred and there's 10 cameras always spying on my existence. I'm actually shocked as to how we haven't been robbed yet. I've always awaited that special someone coming in with a loaded glock, pointing it at my face, and in a desperate demeanor, demanding all the money in the drawer & safe. We keep some weapons about but nothing to write home about. I have a panic switch, bear mace & a police baton. There's some stuff in the back but it's not going to hold any avail at the front desk and I highly doubt anyone that could be by the weapons has a steady enough hand to not kill me. Then this place would truly prove to be nothing more than suicide. noise. Pawn paradise lost.
My boss just closed on a house yesterday and I had the delightful day to work. As I usually do not work Wednesdays, I have the pleasure to this week & I even get Friday off instead of the norm. What does one do with a Friday? He offered me Thursday or Friday instead and I took Friday cos it's sound just rings closer to the weekend but in reality it's not like I could take a weekend trip to get out of this extensive black hole. There is nothing in this town for anyone other than a house. I wonder if it's like this everywhere. Kind of a scary thought that no matter where you go on our little planet there will be a pawn shop flourishing with the very people that built America, only now their jobs have sunk to the better part of business. White Collar = Suckcess to me. And no matter how much I hate this job, I can take pride in the fact that I did things different, if such a thing exists. It's hard to find purpose when there isn't one. And at this very second, and for the past couple months, marc(with a c) steadily argues with his baby's mom. It's a promise, almost daily. He tries to be respectful about it by walking outside but I can hear him yell out there too & now he's in the back. If my tenure here at the shop has taught me anything it is this : I do not want to be like a Marc or Matt. Neither are happy. And while I can't say I am either, I can say that I am not like them.
My saving grace is that I leave here in a month. Win/Win. I don't care if it's less money/more work or even more money/less work, though the latter would be nice. My job consists of nothing. No feeling. No meaning. No work. No play. We all know that makes Mike a dull boy and that's exactly how I feel. Dull.
At this very second we have a spa chair sitting in front when you first walk in. Who the fuck is going to buy that. I digress, who the fuck is going to be sitting on a grand and walk into a pawn shop to buy a spa chair? We've some pretty sweet swords hanging up on the wall but they're not real. They're from Pakistan and I think that's about the only significance of them. They took away my desk too. I recently purchased a lap top from a good friend of mine & would keep my peace in the corner, furiously lurking away at the interwebs. But they wanted to expand our shelves so the desk had to go.. Bummer. I've never watched so many people do dumb shit in my life. I watched five minutes of a man with short hair up top and a five feet in the back asking for criticism of his sword technique on a youtube video. Suppose we'll sell these swords when he comes in but I personally think he's one out of a million.
We're also situated about 10 feet away from a major road. US RT. 1. Stretching from Miami up to Maine. Everyday I get to see people carry out their daily grind. Going up and down the road. It's depressing. I'll go to smoke a cigarette and catch so many dirty stares, it's unbelievable. This makes me ponder, though. Who's happier? These people work for an existence of comfortable living, or supposed comfort, and I work to fund my bills and play my drums. Truth is, we're both happy at points but I have fun. The only happy people in this world are the ones that do what they want, when they want. It's like being a child again only on a much larger scale. When you're younger, a piece of grass at the other end of the neighborhood was new and now we travel to other ends of the world to achieve something new. I like new. I want new.
Marc is out front of the shop as I type, moving his hands around screaming into his phone. He just walked out after being in the back. He started punching things. He is now somewhere else. I'm not sure where but he's not out front & not in the back.
One hour, 43 minutes, 20 seconds.
