Broken Links

My father is a broken link.  He hasn't been a father to me.  He left my mother and I when I was 2 years old.  He didn't teach me how to use tools, how to build stuff, how to fix things, how to throw a baseball, how to throw a football, how to fight, how to be a man; though he couldn't teach me how to be a man, because he isn't a man, and he never will be.  I've complained more about my mother here than my father.  The reason is that my mother attempts to be in my life.  She repeatedly reminds me of her and how she brought me into this world of pain, misery, and death.  I haven't heard from my father since I was a teen (a long time ago).  Did he ever care about me?  And, if so, then for how long?  Certainly not long.  No, I am just the physical manifestation of a big mistake he made. 
I work in a national hardware store, which is sort of ironic, because I know so little about building and fixing stuff.  I suppose that is why I have remained a cashier, even though I could conceivably transfer to another area in the store.  I've heard about how customers react when they feel as though my coworkers don't know enough about the areas they are covering.  So it's strange to be surrounded by all these people who build and fix stuff regularly; for lots of them, that's what their job entails. 
I mentioned the regular customer, who I thought was a nice guy, and he is, but he likes to brag about his money.  He told me a little story, in which he mentioned his $150,000 car.  Doesn't he realize that, as a cashier, I can't afford a car like that?  Does he enjoy rubbing his money into the faces of those who don't have as much as he does?  Bragging about money is like school on Sunday: no class.  How did he learn how to use tools and build and fix stuff?  Perhaps from his father.  So you see the difference between a boy whose father taught him things and a boy whose father taught him nearly nothing.
In fact, the more I talk to customers at work, the more likely they are to start bragging about their money.  Money is what matters more than anything in this shitty society.  It is why animals are treated so horribly.  It is all too common for them to not get the medical care they need, because that would cost money, so, as a result, they suffer.  It is also why animals like pigs and chickens are crammed into small spaces, many of them not getting enough space to walk at all; it's cost-effective.   
So, as a result of not knowing how to build and fix stuff, the thought of being a homeowner is a daunting one.  Therefore, for the foreseeable future, I don't se myself buying a house (not that I could afford one anyway), so I'll continue to live in apartments, and hearing my neighbors will continue to make me miserable.          

People Ruin Everything

People ruin the environment, the lives of animals, the lives of other people, everything.  If I am having a rare good day, then it's highly possible that someone will ruin it.  I sort of don't understand why people would have friends.  I understand that loneliness is not good; I deal with it everyday.  But take the example of my aforementioned frenemy.  There are plenty of times when he and I got along very well.  But it was always just a matter of time until he ruined it by judging me, criticizing me, or yelling at me (for no good reason).  My ex-girlfriend used to be absolutely pissed off that she HAD to go see friends of hers.  What's the point of that?  If seeing friends is like work, then why do it?  My frenemy told me he was going to a Springsteen concert with a friend.  At no time did he want to go.  He complained and complained about it.  Why complain about it to me?  I'm not the one that's going to the concert with you.  But he went, and complained about it some more afterward.
Work sucks, but it's preferable to work outside, where we sell colorful flowers; it's a marvelous display.  As I've mentioned here before, it's good to be outside.  It's natural.  It's the way it should be.  But the outside area at work is definitely ruined by people.  It's amazing how different the two ends of the massive home improvement store I work at are.  In lumber, the customers are mostly men, and they sometimes expect me to know how to build or fix this or that.  I don't know how to build or fix anything.  The garden area of the store might as well be a world away.  Most of the customers are women, and they expect me to know about plants and gardening.  I don't know shit about that.  Lots of the customers there are elderly ladies.  Plenty of them have lashed out at me.  It must be hard to be an old lady.  I'm sure a lot of people treat them like they're slow and in the way, which they sort of are.  I've seen, and dealt with, a depressing amount of elderly people that I never want to be like.  They say, "death before dishonor."  Well, it's dishonorable to be half dead physically and mentally.  I think it makes sense to kill yourself before you become a ghost of your former self.
The elderly lady was buying something from me at the outside register, and she was saying the usual boring shit that I've heard tons of times before.  It's amazing how dull and unfunny many people are when they try to be funny.  I didn't react to what she was saying.  She said something about not talking much.  "Who?" I asked.  "You," she said angrily.  So, once again, I'm the lowest on the food chain.  My position in society is to take undeserved abuse from pathetic old ladies.  The young, tattooed woman who was next in line heard the exchange.  She, unsolicited, mentioned to me how the old lady's attack (on me) was bogus. 
Since we're outside, there is, obviously, no roof to block sunlight.  This means that direct sunlight hits the PIN pad; the glare makes it hard to see.  You wouldn't believe how many morons complain that they can't read its screen, as though it's my, or anyone's, fault.  What do I want to say every time?  "Hey, if I could control the brightness of the sun, I wouldn't be here."  Or, "You could pay inside, which has a fucking roof over it."
Last night, a bit of a connection was made.  I was dealing with a customer who's a very nice guy.  The total came up, and he mentioned that it was the same as the year he was born.  I didn't tell him, but it was the year I was born too.  He talked to me a little bit.  He mentioned that he works 12-hour days, 7 days a week.  Then he added that he's making a lot of money.  You see, he ruined it there by bragging about all the money he's making.  It wasn't necessary.  I think bragging about the money you have, especially to someone who doesn't have much of it, isn't classy.  My frenemy was like that.  Not only did he brag about his money, he told me several times that his sister is rich: rubbing other people's money in my face over and over again.  He is such a piece of shit.  
If you want to laugh, try my Twitter account where I tweet jokes.  It's here: https://twitter.com/TheBaldDBag