Contempt

I find it very difficult to live in this society, because I have contempt for
-mentally-competent adults that selfishly support animal cruelty by buying meat, leather, fur, etc.
-mentally-competent adults that have procreated
-mentally-competent adults that have brought animals into this world
-mentally-competent adults that spend a lot of time with their faces in their smartphones.
So, once again, obviously, I am not targeting children or the mentally disabled.  I get along with the sorts of people I have just mentioned, mostly because I have to.  I get along quite well with a coworker who eats meat and has kids.  I like her.  Interestingly, we were talking one day, and she admitted, unsolicited, that life is shitty.  Do you regret having kids?  That's the question I wanted to ask but didn't.  I need to do whatever I need to do to get through the day at work.  If I hated, and scowled at, all my coworkers that eat meat, have procreated, and have their faces in their phones every chance they get, I'd be hated.  I have no friends, so I need to try to get along with my coworkers as well as I can.  But whenever I see them eating meat, or hear them talking about their favorite meat dishes, I can feel the contempt bubbling up inside me.  Likewise when I see them with (or hear them talking about) their kids.  Seeing them with their faces in their phones reminds me of the contempt too.
So, again, leaving it all for the wilderness seems like a good idea.  I wouldn't have to be around people I have contempt for.  But the same issues come to mind: bugs bugging me, lack of heat, showers, and toilet paper.  It seems like I can't win.     

Do You NEED a Bag?

Not sure if I've disclosed this before, but, I, most unfortunately, am a cashier, and I am not young.  It pains me to write that.  In fact, I try to avoid saying the word as much as possible.  At work, we have head cashiers.  I call them "HCs."  I don't even like to see people working as cashiers, because it reminds me of how I spend 40 hours a week.  "You are what you do" is bullshit.  I am not, at my core, a cashier.  It is just how I pay the bills.  People, that I don't know, have purchased and read my writing, so, therefore, by definition, I am a professional writer (just not a successful one).
However, even someone as low on the food chain as I am can make a difference.  I don't think I've ever heard one of my coworkers asking a customer if they NEED a bag.  They either bag the item(s) without asking, or they ask, "Do you WANT a bag?"  I specifically ask them if they need a bag, and this gets them thinking, "Do I need a bag?"  Many times, the answer is no.  Compared to my coworkers, and lots of other cashiers, I issue far fewer plastic bags, which, of course, aren't good for the environment.  They are all over the place.  Innocent sea creatures attempt to eat them in the ocean, where there are tons of them.
Frequently, I don't even ask if they need a bag.  I just don't bag their stuff.  Sometimes, this leads to me getting attitude.  An elderly woman was buying some large items: too big to fit into our bags.  There was a box of lightbulbs that would fit into a bag, but she left it in her cart, and I scanned it there.  I didn't bag it.  It turns out her middle-aged son was there too.  He approached her as she was waiting for him near the exit.  He said, "You didn't get a bag for the bulbs?"  He seemed annoyed.  Then he bought something at my register.  Even though I heard this whole "bulb, bag" exchange, I still asked him if he needed a bag.  Some things (like the environment) matter more than pissing off some little shit.  I towered over him, on my anti-fatigue mat, my body language aggressive.  No, he didn't need a bag.  But, as he was walking away, he angrily ripped a bag from the dispenser for his mommy.  What will happen to that bag?  Will it be recycled?  I hope so.  But it's far too possible that it won't be.
I have trained others to do my job, and I have trained them to ask the customers if they need bags.  I heard one of my coworkers say, to a customer, "I put a bag around these just to keep them together."  I looked to see what she was talking about.  It was clearly a waste of a bag.  I wouldn't have used a bag for that.  I wouldn't have even asked the customer if she needed a bag for that.  But the customer was so impressed!  I thought no one in this wicked world cared about me, but someone does!  "Oh, thank you," she said.  So, you see, my coworker took the easy, wasteful way out.  She pleased the customer, but at what cost?  No less than the environment.  She betrayed the environment to please a common hag (a bag for a hag!  If he's still alive, her husband can reuse it by putting it over her face, and maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to have sex with her near carcass!).
Even though I have OCD, I have pulled paper out of the trash (gross) at work, so it could be recycled.  My shitty neighbors opened a box, that was addressed to the shitty tenants that lived in that apartment before them, and put the box outside the front door of the building that we (unfortunately) share.  They left it there for at least a week (They are lazy slobs.).  I considered calling the office about it, then I decided to dispose of it myself, so it could be recycled.  If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself.        

Double Selfish Monstrosities!

Aaaaaaaaaaaah!!!  That was a scream of pain, frustration, and despair.  It's official.  It's happened again.  I dread going to work.  The best thing about my workplace is dogs are allowed to be there.  Also, a very cute little girl with a lot of curly blonde hair recently blew a kiss to me.  So it only sucks 99% of the time.
I don't talk very much to my coworkers, because I don't wish to participate in certain recurring sorts of conversations.  They frequently talk about the meat they like to eat.  What am I supposed to say to that?  "I hope you fucking choke on it" comes to mind.  They also talk about their kids and grandkids.  They show pictures as well.  What do I say to that?  "Now, just how many kids have you brought into this brutal, miserable world to suffer?"  That's what I mean by double selfish monstrosities.  Eating meat is selfish, because it's cruel, and you don't need it to survive.  Bringing babies into this fucked-up, dangerous world is selfish.  Procreating is arguably the most selfish thing you can do.  Or perhaps eating meat is.  They're both way up there.  But, unfortunately, for people and animals alike, it's the norm.  It's typical.  And that's what these people are: typical.  They bore and anger the fuck out of me.      

Taking a Stand

To be sung to the tune of the chorus of Jethro Tull's "Skating Away on the Thin Ice of the New Day-"
Taking a stand
Taking a stand
Taking a stand on the new land with a plan

A couple of work friends asked me to have dinner with them in a restaurant.  Not surprisingly, both of them are meat eaters.  I insisted that they order no meat at the restaurant. 
"That's not fair," my coworker replied to my request.  Your meat eating is not fair to the animals you're eating.  She also said, "You're around people eating meat here."  We were in our workplace's break room. 
"I have to be around it here," I replied.  Because I have to work and make money to support myself.  I don't have to be around shit like that on my free time.
I hardly ever eat out anyway, and that's fine.  I don't enjoy being served by a server who's being fake nice to me in order to get as big a tip as possible: not my idea of a good time.  It ain't cheap, either, and I am.
My coworker thought my request was unreasonable.  So, instead of being at the restaurant with them tonight, I'm alone, writing, and listening to metal.  I don't want to sit at a table with people who are eating meat.  People eating meat and wearing leather offend me.  What's even worse is when it's wasted.  How can I enjoy myself when I'm worried one, or both, of them is going to waste meat?  Throwing meat in the trash is so disrespectful.  The animals who provided that meat suffered in vain whenever that happens: truly heinous.   

Taking Shit

Life is all about taking shit.  Now that I'm employed again, this is clearer than ever.  I've had to take shit from coworkers: but mostly from customers.  My coworkers have also had to take massive amounts of shit from customers.  Perhaps society is breaking down.  Some think that America is headed for a major fall.  Perhaps this is part of it.
I'll give you an example.  I was working, as a cashier, in the outside lawn and garden area of the store where I work.  A man was there with his woman.  I rang up the purchases, and he paid for them with his credit card.  When one uses a credit or debit card to pay, one approves the purchase amount first, so that's what he did.  After he did that and paid for the merchandise, he had a problem with the price of one of the items.  According to him, it had been put in the wrong place or the price was wrong.  According to him, it should have cost a lot less than it did.  But here's the problem; he approved the total purchase amount!  And now that it's gone through, there's nothing I can do to right this supposed wrong for him.  Returns must be done at customer service.  I told him that, and it made him very angry.
"You mean I have to go all the way over there?" he asked.  He said it like it was a mile or so away.  It wasn't.  It was much less than that: just a little bit of a stroll, which, considering his fat-ass physique, he wasn't very used to navigating.  Then he said, "Fuck it.  I'm not going there.  I'll hold up the line too.  I don't care."
I knew what to say to that, but I didn't say it, because it could have gotten me fired.  I would have said, 'Why did you approve the purchase amount if you had a problem with it?"
Here's another example.  A woman, with an English accent, approached me while I was manning a cash register.  She was a little bitchy, which turned out to be foreshadowing.  The store I work at has it's own credit cards.  We allow our customers to use them even if they failed to bring them to the store for their purchases.  We can look them up on the computerized registers.  That's what the bitch wanted to do; she wanted to use the credit card she failed to bring to the store.  So I looked it up, and the computer said, "no account found."  I told her that, and she got very bitchy
"I have an account here!" she yelled.  I double-checked all the info she had given me: no dice.  My memory is a little fuzzy, cause I've been drinking, but I think she requested the assistance of a manager.  She arrived and assisted. 
The manager, Trixie, asked "Could it be under your husband's name (which I had asked)?"
"No!" was the response,  "It's under both our names.  I think he (me) typed it in wrong."
It turned out that it was under her husband's name.  She had been a bitch for no good reason and fucked with two people who couldn't retaliate unless they were OK with losing their jobs.