The Demokratik Republik of Kalifornia

Do you ever get the feeling that something is wrong?

My Job is Killing Me

So I work for a Hungarian Nazi with a Dutch Fag and a One Armed Pollock.

I Hate My Job

For some reason when I was about 16 years old I got it into my head that being a mechanic was a good way to make a living. I can’t blame the alcohol and drugs for this because at 16 I wasn’t all that loaded all the time and I had’t even tried LSD yet.  None the less I had this bizarre idea that fixing cars for fun and profit was the way to go for me.

So here I am all these years later working in an independent foreign car repair shop. The job it’s self is bad enough, hard physically destructive work that doesn’t pay as well as it should but that’s not the part that’s killing me.

What’s killing me is the people I work for and with… They drive me insane.

First of all is the retard that owns the shop, it took me a while to figure out he was intellectually challenge because I blamed the language barrier for the miss communication that caused simply asinine stuff that he was always doing… But considering that I’ve worked for this retard for 20 years it is apparent that he is too stupid to ever learn English. It is also apparent that he can’t learn from his past mistakes because he does the same stupid stuff over and over like he forgot it all bit him in the a$$ every other time he tried it. The guy is truly Pathological constantly in manifesting behavior that is habitual, mal-adaptive, and compulsive. Aside from all this he has a portrait of Hitler hanging in his office. I thought the Hungarians were pissed off at Hitler but I guess a lot of them are Nazis.

And then there is the Dutch Queer, too many issues with this guy to list and none of it has anything to do with the fact that he’s gay.  He’s the most passive aggressive A-hole I’ve ever met. One of his favorite tricks is to park cars three deep behind where I need to work and then loose the key to the one in the back of the pile so I can’t get a damn thing done for hours… Waste of space wasting everyone’s time all day long. And he’s a Slob… The guy track grease everywhere he goes and just won’t keep his hand off of anything… If you answer the phone in the shop without wiping it off first you end up dirtier than if you drained an entire drank case on the side of your head. Which leads us to….

The Pollock… Need I say more? (kidding… His stupidity has very little to do with the fact that he’s Polish). I can’t even begin to tell you… This guy has been telling me the same stories over and over for as long as he’s worked here and he just can’t shut up… I tell him to STFU cause I’m trying to work without cutting off any of my fingers and he just keeps going on and on about the same  boring crap with the same unintelligible grammar… Makes me want to stab myself in the ear drums with an ice pick.

What you say?

Everyone has their faults?

Yes this is true so I’ll get to my point.

What kills me about these idiot A-holes isn’t that they are Mentally ill and Intellectually Challenged… What Kills me is that they think they are smarter than the indigenous people of the country they have immigrated to.

Every conversation between them whether it be about politics,  religion, where to buy spare parts for their broken down blender or the shops clientele  ends with this “Typical Americans… Americans are so stupid!”

Clearly I’m not right in the head because I’ve been working in this shop ever since 1991… That’s 20 years of listening to this crap out of these immigrants.

But you know something?  One of these days… I’m going put a boot up one of their a$$es and tell them to “Get The Phuk Outta My Country”.

 

Shut Up

One cool thing about working here so long though is that I can now cuss for twenty minutes straight in five different languages and not say the same thing twice.