This week, I should’ve been working from home. Our state is in the orange zone, meaning that the virus could strike at any minute. There are two other people that worked with me. One had her problems solved, so she gets to stay home. Myself and the other woman are here in the open waiting for the supervisor to help us with our technical issues.

Something I probably should’ve lead with: Miss Lucky is white. Me and the girl are black. I sincerely don’t want to be that guy, but it is super hard not to read anything into this. The supervisor sitting on her hands has to know that, if either of us survive, her name and ‘lawsuit’ are gonna be the first thing out of our mouths. You wouldn’t think that a company would blithely try to kill its employees, but given the last four years, anything is fucking possible.

And the truly sad thing? If I had to choose between this job and the call center one I quit five years ago this week, I would still pick this one. Despite being furnished with, at best, 40% of what I need to do the job effectively, I’m still confident that I could do the job. I could’ve been furnished with 1000% of what I needed for the call center job and I would’ve still been lost at sea.