Tinderella
Once upon a time a final year business student fell for the glitter and entice of Tinder.
Maybe it would be there that she would find her Prince Charming.
Let’s call this girl Tinderella. Every Monday morning she staggers into her workplace with a new story about a new man, a micro-fling for the weekend. This week: the 6’9ft prison guard who can’t 69. When Justin’s bio said he was tall I was down.
I have a thing for tall guys and instantly thought I’d found ‘the one’. It was a school night and he’d impressed me by paying for my gyoza, so naturally I dragged him up to my apartment. I was going to scale that mountain. Hot tip: Shoe size does not correlate to dick size. It might be hot but it won’t be big. He’d met his match, apparently, because every sucker before me was too short to do simultaneous mouth stuff. Girl, the teeth on that man. Like someone get this boy to a dentist because those incisors were like fangs on this peach.
I feel like I’ve had a bit of a rough trot in the pumpkin home. First, it’s not a carriage being pulled by a horse but an Uber being driven by some guy with 4.4 stars. Second, I’ve learnt some people are trash, myself included. But through the bad dates and the lower than average sexcapades (seriously) I’ve learnt a thing or two about love, sex and life for the modern millennial woman.
Sweet Dreams
You know when you wake up half asleep, turn your phone on and fall asleep again with your phone in your hand? Yeah. My hand magically opened a large work group chat and sent my most recent (really unattractive) weight loss progress pic. Kill me.
McDon’t Touch My Cup Without a New Set of Gloves
Nothing delights me more then finding a fellow sufferer of the fast food work. It all begins like any other shift, I’m hating my life but at least my job is easy. The car in drive thru beeps. “Hi please place your order!” I say as chirpily as I can muster into the headset. She places her order. “No problem, anything else?”
“I need EVERYTHING to be fresh.” The voice crones. I suppress a sigh. One of those assholes who demands fresh service despite using the drive thru. “I need everyone who is preparing the food to wash their hands thoroughly, change their gloves, benches to be wiped clean, a fresh straw from inside a fresh packet and a fresh cup from a fresh unopened packet.”
I’m panicking as I rush to the back room to prepare a fresh cup and straw for the customer and change my gloves, spilling everything as I go. The car rolls up to the window, ignoring the fact that I’m in the midst of taking another order through the speaker.
I try to multitask as I take the coins and notes she dangles in her hand and enter it into the register. I reach to hand her the drink with a fresh cup, lid and straw but just as I do she screeches. “UH NO!,” she spits. “You’ve been handling money!! You can’t just give that to me like that! Change your gloves. Just bring it with the food, I’ll park.”
I pulled in my coin-dirtied hands from the window. The hands dirtied by the money that she herself gave me. From when she handled the coins… the hypocrisy astounds me. This story doesn’t even have an ending. I just wanted to tell you all about one it.
