17 June 2026

I never got this marked up in the Army.

Now, to be fair, although I was authorized (required) to wear the National Defense Service Medal, I never actually served in combat. Military people still have their fair share of peacetime workplace accidents, but probably the worst I ever had to worry about was a fucking paper cut. Not a big deal.

This job? Well.

You can see three major marks. The actual workplace injuries are the top red mark inside a faint rectangle and then that ugly bruise further down. The red mark in the rectangle was a nice burn I fetched myself on one of the air fryers the day my dad died. I don’t remember exactly how I got the bruise but I am ninety-nine percent sure it was at work and I vaguely recall hitting myself and how much it smarted. And let me just say that bruising more easily in menopause is fucking bullshit. -5/10 do not recommend.

(Still better than periods though.)

The other major mark, in between the burn and the bruise, is not an injury in the usual sense. I have a weird sensitivity to bandage adhesive and have not quite nailed down the etiology. I know I am less likely to break out in a rash from a clear Band-Aid as opposed to the “flesh”-colored ones, and that’s all I’ve been able to work out thus far. Also, I’m at least somewhat certain that once that crap has got me breaking out, at that point all bets are off until I get the adhesive completely off of me and let my skin rest for a while. It is an itchy snowball reaction. That seems to be what happened here. The rectangle around the burn is part of it too. I am at least not itchy anymore.

(Ironically, I don’t think I’m allergic to latex!)

What I get for not wanting to immerse a mild second-degree burn with a small rubbed-off blister into hot soapy dishwashing water. Silly me. It did finally start healing properly though. Tried to get infected at first. If you ever get a burn this big, look for something labeled “hydrocolloid bandage” or “advanced wound care bandage” or similar. The stuff is miraculous.

If all I ever got was burns and bumps and bruises, it’d be fine. We’re into busy season, though, and K is still not showing up for work nine days out of ten scheduled. I have a new respect, if tinged with mild annoyance, for my GM. She really is sticking her neck out trying to make sure this young woman keeps a job, considering the current political climate around young (or any) pregnant women.

(“wHy iS tHe BiRtHrAtE DrOpPiNg”… fucking clowns)

But at the end of the day we can’t have someone getting a job just to say she got a job and then not fucking doing her bit because she is not even present and is in fact shutting out any possible candidate who would do the job. Keeping her employed but not on the schedule is an acceptable compromise. I just hope it doesn’t land GM in trouble. Well, it won’t if I have anything to say about it. I was all for K working out. That she hasn’t is entirely on K.

Meanwhile we have a new guy, who is actually a guy, starting on Sunday. I am reserving judgment. Though at least M and I are established as the openers and he’s just the extra help from 7am to 11am and we don’t have to train him in all that other BS right away. We can sort of ease him into learning the ropes.

Unless he runs away screaming. And that is never off the table, so I'm not getting my hopes up.

Other Coworker, who if you’ve kept up is no longer my coworker which is why we hired K in the first place, is still on GM’s group text or something. Today she forwarded me a screenshot. Apparently some VIP is at the hotel until tomorrow afternoon and GM is totally spazzing. Pretty fair bet it is not Owner. She would have just said it was Owner if that’s who it was. Hell, half the time they don’t tell me he’s here until I arrive to clock in. So it’ll be some celeb or some corporate bigshot. Kinda holding out hope for the celeb, because there’s at least some possibility they won’t be an asshole. And they’ll hit it lucky because I'm a bit old to be all that starstruck. If it’s not Rory McCann, they’re totes safe with me. If it IS Rory McCann, I’ll be hiding in the kitchen quietly weeping because he’s married and I look like shit.

(He WAS in South Dakota last weekend, though. Like so…

…on your right, if you needed telt. DAMMIT, I MISS ALL THE FUN.)

Oh well. We’ll see! I can’t promise that I’ll be able to tell you who it was, either. Maybe if I delay it for a few weeks. I wonder if they’re here for the monster truck rally…

In far less happy news, I hit a bit of a snag getting Dad’s death certificate. Had to wait til I was off again to work it out, but that’s done and I’ve paid the invoice and it is just a matter of waiting for my mail. And then I have other important things to do which will involve waiting for my mail again. AAAAAAUUUUUGH. (Had to do that.) Never ceases to amaze me how everyone wants something-or-other from me NOW no matter how frivolous it is but when I actually need something, I am always last priority. I am going to have the last fucking laugh on this one. Just you wait.

Okay. Got to putter around a bit. Work tomorrow. At least I probably won’t be alone. I was on Monday, and it was insaaaaane. I was scheduled until one. I usually get out around noon on busy days. I was there Monday until twenty til three. At least the tips are starting to be worth writing home about. And if I am forced to do a busy day alone, as I was then, I GET TO KEEP IT ALL. My own petty little revenge. So there.