You've probably noticed I've been pretty much gone for the past few days, why was that? Well, my bro and I were pullin double-duty these past few days: handling the transport of all things yard sale for a non-profit my mom's a member of, and doing overnight security for said yard sale.
Now, that's all fine and dandy, and we were promised a LOT more than we usually make just handling the transport part (usually $100 each), plus the normal bonus of basically being able to nick anything we wanted from the merch that caught our eye and was smaller than your average American sofa. I managed to get all but ONE of the Harry Potter books (only missing the first one) in hardback, two suit jackets (one black, one pinstripe <3), two cool-ass ties, some new gloves, a binder, and a few gifts for my girlfriend. Altogether, not a bad haul.
Why am I posting about this here? Well, we got done today. We were paid for our yard sale work after Day #2, a total of about $110 each. Not bad, not a gigantic bonus, but I'm not gonna bitch about a 10% raise with only a little extra work, since we were doing all the transport, as the lady who usually helps us out has become physically incapable of doing most of the lifting, due to age.
We also did two nights of overnight guard duty. We spent the first night huddled together in a truck that belonged to a local member, and the second night in my van, both while trying to not freeze our fucking balls off and trying to get some modicum of sleep. Altogether, those days, I got about 7-8 hours of sleep. In two nights.
Now, what did my bro and I get for spending a total of 20 hours staving off the cold, boredom, and trying to get some semblance of normal sleep? $50 each. For those of you who are math impaired, that works out to $2.50 an hour. Less than half the state minimum wage. Granted, we weren't officially being employed by them, more like...freelance work, if you will.
The worst part? I can't blame the lady who pays us. This yard sale is an incredibly stressing thing for her, one that lasts for weeks before the fucker even begins. Combine that with being the mother of a severely autistic son, and working full-time as a disability advocate, and its a miracle that she doesn't fucking snap and bitchslap someone.
But, I'm not pullin god damned guard duty again. The pay is not commensurate with the agony. That, and I have to deal with FuRR members, all of whom are varying degrees of Crazy Cat Lady, and all but two of whom (the third's a guy, and so doesn't count as a Crazy Cat Lady) are your stereotypical bitchy, old, rich, white ladies who barely tolerate anyone under motherfucking 50. I'm fucking tempted to remind them that, one day, they're going to fucking die, and when they do, if they don't get over their fucking idiotic prejudice against people that aren't on the razor's edge between normalcy and senility, FuRR will die with them. Which, really, will be a sad day, because they do a lot of good for cats around the state, more than the fucking Humane Society does, which is almost exclusively canine.
I love cats, and I want to help the little buggers, but those bitches' cause is going to die with them if they don't get new blood to take over once they're gone. As it is, my brother and I are the only people there who are under 50, and if you know anything about me, you know I'm not gonna be in this state for too much longer. I'd hate to see FuRR die, but...if they're gonna be that brand of dickhead, someone will make a new FuRR from the ashes, hopefully. I don't want their idiocy to break my mother's heart. That happens, I'll personally smash their headstones with a fucking sledgehammer.
