Fo Shizzle...

I hate music where white people are trying to sound black. The white music I like is white.-Kanye West

This also describes my feeling of "black" speech from someone who has admittedly never spent a day outside of the suburbs. And don't get me started on the issue of white/black "speech. If I had a nickel for everytime some redneck remarked, "You sayound lahk a whaat girl on dat speaker!" while I was in drive-thru, I would be able to turn my back on bullshitting fast food jobs forever. It saddens me that speaking properly and cohesively is considered "white" and "high siddity". My huge vocabulary often surprises everyone I meet. But karma comes back to bite me, I suppose, as the nOOb, Josh, was suddenly thrown into my department. This is where the management's poor communication skills come into play. I felt horrible, insecure, and worried. Why am I out of the loop? I found out shortly after that one of our most loved butchers was packing up his knives and getting the hell out of Dodge. God Damn! I suppose it has to happen, every department has to change eventually, but it's scary. Especially when your own job is threatened. By Josh. A wigga in every sense of the word. But, he seems to retain most of his ethnicity inside until I clock in. It was midly amusing at first, but he started getting aggravating at a breakneck speed. By the fourth time he asked a customer "Yo! Can I help you?" I wanted to slap the fuck out of him with a hammer. "Ayo; I'm about to take a break, yo. Is dat cool with you?" Me- yes, that's fine. "Aight, when I get back, I'm going to gangbang some of those leg quarters." My eyebrow shot up as I immediatly pictured him howling in agony as huge frozen leg quarters in assless chaps pistol-whipped him. He shuns anything that I try to teach him, in favor of any bulky, inconvenient method that Clay has taught him, from wrapping frozen shrimp, to defrosting large crabs before you put them in the display case. So I just gave up. I essentially became his little bitch who does everything at 3 or 4 that should have been done hours before I got there. I saw my fearless mentor, BayBay, a few nights ago, and he spoke one of the truest statements I've heard in months. "A.R. is not seeing you for who you've become, or any progress you've made. He is seeing you, still, as how you were when you started this job (complaining about not getting breaks, taking lunches that lasted more than 1/2 hour, being late because I did not read the schedule correctly, ect, ect, because I can't ever do anything right.). He is not going to consider you for a full time position." He kept getting passed over for management, so he moved on, too. It might be time for me to make that switch back to Hell-Mart before it's too late.