002: Work / Life

table of contents

Letter from the Editors 4 intro to our second issue

Corporate Logo Tier List 6 our answer to the age-old question

Working a Player Run Casino in FFXIV 8 dice don’t lie baby

Odd Jobs 13 simulation games that take the work, well, out of work

lunch break

Definition of a Sandwich 14 settled, once and for all

Our Favorite Sandos 16 top tier picks in nyc Sandwich Spread 18 how to with jordan baber

Gone but not Forgotten 20 an ode to some classic city spots

Labor Days 22 Aesop’s fabled album review

Fifth Ave. 24 scary stories to tell between madison and park Performance Review 30 did you remember to submit?

Labor Days (Crossword Edition) 32 boss makes a dollar, i make a dime, that’s why i make crosswords on company time

LCCF Crease-In 33 what can society do to repair its ails?

Classifieds & More 34 looking for work? look somewhere else

Meet the Authors 35 this post brought to you by zine gang

letter from the editors

Greetings comrades!

And welcome, our brothers, sisters, and siblings, to the second issue of Liquid Courage and Chocolate Fortune! Over the past few years, and especially in recent months, we here at LCCF have been reflecting on work. At its best, it can feel productive, like you're actually making a difference while also providing for you and your family. But at its worst it can be a soul-sucking, time-wasting, mind-numbing endeavor. It can be a struggle when you have it, and a struggle when you don’t. It can feel like a real double-edged sword.

In this issue, we try to explore the many facets of work, but ultimately probably walk away with more questions than answers. We take on the feasibility of work/life balance, occupations in the physical and digital realms, food on the go, music to rise and grind to, and more.

So punch out, take a lunch break, or finally put in that PTO or two weeks' notice, and crack open this cold new issue!

TAKE A LOAD OFF WITH SOME TUNES

In solidarity, Jordan & Susi

corporate logo tier list

our answer to the age-old question: was the rebrand worth it? we looked at 50+ logossee how your favorites ranked.

PEPSI: ONE OF THE BEST OF ALL TIME

Of the gas stations only Sinclair does it better than Shell; it has the dinosaur

DO NOT look up the original VW logowe are warning you Beats - pretty clever, it looks like headphones

Wikipedia - everything about this logo is technically wrong and yet, it works

Honda - looks like a bikini top

Lacoste - kind of complex but it works. How did they even come up with the alligator

Android - S: I think he’s cute J: never cared for the guy

Why are there so many sub-par blue logos....?

Love Reddit but the logo is so meh

F is for Facebook

Pizza hut? More like pizza hat

Windows: It sucks. Why did they do that?

The old checkered one - that is a real logo

Tommy Hilfiger - F for fucking racist

Tik tok’s motion blur makes us sick

Did Paypal use to have a little guy or am I tripping?

Jack in the Box - it’s a nice effort; cool that they have the 3D

Mazda - it’s weird, like a seagull you’d draw as a child

Hate the Olympics but like the logo

Cisco: bridge, audio forms

Do you remember the Coca-Cola logo with or without a hypen?

Papers, Please BORDER CONTROL AGENT

This is an indie puzzle game where you work as a border patrol agent for a fictionalized Soviet-style country. The game is simple. Your view generally consists of the counter in front of you— documents strewn about, and the anxious visage of their owner. After examining all the evidence, you either allow or deny entry. Honestly, I found it too stressful/difficult to complete, but still recommend it for the experience. Glory to Arstotzka!

Trauma Center: Under the Knife SURGEON

This game has a special place in my heart because it is probably the first game that made me cry. It starts off pretty normally—you play as dreamy Dr. Derek Stiles, who is starting as a surgeon at a hospital. But then it quickly spins out of control and before you know it, you’ve got to save the world. This game makes great use of the DS unique touch screen / stylus gameplay and the graphics combined with the little audio snippets (“Derek!!” "Doctor Stiles!") make it extra memorable.

Super Mario Sunshine WORK RELEASE ISLAND CLEANER

Is this one a bit of a stretch? Yes, but the whole premise of this game is a stretch as well. Take yourself back to 2001. The gaming community has eagerly anticipated a new Nintendo console and received…a cube. Paired with this cube—a Mario game that totally flipped the script. It opens with everyone’s favorite mustachio’ed plumber landing in Isle Delfino for a much needed vacay, only to be fingered for a crime he didn’t commit, sent to court, and thrown into prison??? He is then sent out on work release to clean up the rest of the Isle, which has been covered in mysterious gloop. This game is bizarre and the mechanics are wonky, but the aesthetics and soundtrack make this one of my favorite Mario games to date.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Harvest Moon & Stardew Valley - farmer, Overcooked & Cook, Serve, Delicious 2 - cook

odd jobs Video games are often a form of escapism – you can travel, destroy, and create without consequence. They can also transform the mundane. Here are some games focused on work that honestly don’t feel like it.

definition of a sandwich

we finally reach a consensus

Bread

› 2 pieces of leavened bread

OR a hinged piece of bread, ie. a hero roll

Fillings

› hot or cold is acceptable

› usually includes a protein, such as ham or cheese

Orientation

› must be horizontally oriented, with bread at the top and bottom

“I’ve noticed this question coming up again and again. No. I don’t think it’s a sandwich. I don’t think a hamburger is a sandwich either. The fact that it’s in between bread–the bread is a delivery system, a ballistic delivery system. It is not a classic sandwich, in my view.

If you were to talk to any vendor of fine hot dogs, and ask for a hot dog sandwich, they would probably report

Yes, this phrase is in reference to hard-core pornography, but I think it also applies to sandwiches.

“I’LL KNOW IT WHEN I SEE IT”

- JUSTICE POTTER STEWART

(JACOBELLIS V. OHIO, 1964)

BURGER technically a sandwich (but if I want a sandwich, I’m not going to Shake Shack)

QUESADILLA not a sandwich tortillas are unleavened

HOT DOG not a sandwich vertically oriented

GYRO not a sandwich vertically oriented

our fave sandos

The best of the best in New York City. Look to the left for meat-based, to the right for vegetarian picks!

Venice Beach

ALL’ANTICO VINAIO

Turkey, Tomato, Mozzarella

sliced avocado

Pastrami

BEN’S DINER On Rye

Off-Menu

CAFE HESTIA

Turkey, Bacon, Honey Mustard, Lettuce, Tomato

The Georgina

ORCHARD GROCER

Housemade Fried Tofu Chik’n, Tricolor Slaw Made With Carrots, Cabbage And Scallions, Housemade BBQ Sauce Served On A Fresh Roll

Vegitalian

COURT STREET GROCERS

Roasted Butternut Squash, Swiss, Mozzarella, Pecorino, Arugula, White Onion, CSG Hoagie Spread, Mayo

gone but not forgotten

One of New York’s best qualities is that it is ever-evolving and always changing. There is always something new to see, taste, or hear. Unfortunately, the churn is indiscriminate and sometimes places get lost in the shuffle. Here are some of the spots that we miss the most.

1

1

4 2

3

Berry Deli

BROADWAY

I got breakfast here almost every morning for about 5 years. Plain bagel with cream cheese and some type of ice tea or juice. God I feel old, a bagel and a drink was less than 5 bucks! I think this is the first place where I had a “usual”. The deli guys called me Flacko and if I came in after work they’d joke it was too late to order more bagels.

5

Sunshine Cinema 143 E HOUSTON ST

The Sunshine, a bastion of independent cinema, closed at the end of 2018 and was replaced by a 10 story office building. Once I saw Xavier Dolan’s Mommy here and lost my wallet. (Someone else I spoke to also lost a wallet here) In one of its last months, I saw a screening of The Room and Tommy Wiseau made a surprise guest appearance. It felt like a fitting New York-ian farewell.

Two-bit’s 153 ESSEX ST

Forget Barcade, this is the original. First of all, great selection of games. The front boasts Simpsons Pinball Party and Spiderman, two of my all time favorites. As you head deeper inside, you’ll pass by fratty finance bros crowding around the boxing game and Beer Pong Master. Pick up a Schofferhofer from the bar, or grab one left behind by a bickering couple. At the back, set up at the Sopranos, Fun-House or one of the many other classic cabinets. Old movies are always on display on the TVs, and if any of the machines eat your money, the owner’s got a bucket of quarters.

Coffee Shop 29 UNION SQUARE W

What else was open 24 hours around Union Square!? This was a huge location, with ample indoor and outdoor seating, as well as a front and back bar. The drinks and food were fine (I think I had my first ever mojito here) but this place was and is an icon. Happy hour was solid—super strong frozen margaritas with pau de queso. It was the essential pregame to any concert at Webster Hall, Irving Plaza, or Gramercy Theatre.

Diamond Reef 1057 ATLANTIC AVE

Started as an offshoot of LES legend Attaboy, the drinks here were incredible. The penichillin was a scotch slushie topped off with more scotch, and the beginning of any good night. The interior was expansive— featuring turquoise upholstered nooks and comfy bar seats—but often quite empty. Abundant outdoor seating, a food truck doling out skewers, and a great bathroom set up made closing down this spot too easy. Would recommend for: 2nd/3rd dates, birthdays, and farewells.

Berg’n 899 BERGEN ST

I like a convenient food hall, but this one takes top marks because I lived across the street. But it also felt less like a food hall and more like a gathering place. Yes, the weekends bordered on insufferable when the brunch crowd with their strollers clogged the aisles. But on other less stuffy nights, I played ping pong, picked up my CSA, and even knocked back a drink during a snowstorm when I got locked out of my apartment. A friend used to grab coffee and do work next to High Maintenance’s Ben Sinclair. And for some reason, the mac and cheese at this Mighty Quinn's tasted the best.

Jane loved her job. Working at an upscale Fifth Avenue boutique might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it suited her perfectly.

She enjoyed the formality, the consistent ebb and flow of customers, the light around closing as the sun began to set, and of course, the fashion. The boutique stocked a mix of big names and trendy designers with more local and up-and-coming labels. The unifying factor was that all of it was fabulous.

In the early autumn furs in every color, from every kind of animal, started flooding the floor. They’d serve the occasional spiked hot chocolate to a client seeking refuge from the snow. Winter in Manhattan was true misery with retail therapy the only cure.

In spring, starched cottons and petit florals started to fill the racks. Fabrics became more sheer and flowy until colored spandex started to arrive, intermingling among it like an attention-hungry cousin. As temperatures climbed and Manhattan’s chicest slowly began escaping the increasingly festering island, patent pumps made way for hand braided espadrilles and suits shifted from gabardine to linen in pastel hues. As it did earlier in the year, the store served as a respite from the elements, with the cool AC and chilled Perriers the true draw for their clientele. After Labor Day, all things white were cast aside and the shop became more earthy, taking in tones of tweed and plaid and textures reminiscent of a schoolteacher’s garb, but not without a decadent accent of ostrich feathers or Swarovski crystal. Before you knew it, a year had passed—all four major seasons and the optional resort—and preparation began for the next one. The anticipation of the newest styles was enough to sustain you without calories.

Jane not only loved seeing all of the clothes pass through the shop into loving new owners’ arms, but loved holding them in their moment. The textures and richness were beyond comprehension, and the shopgirls—Jane, Miranda, and Cynthia—were lucky enough to wear some of the samples on display. Jane adored it all, even though it wasn’t always up to her the style she’d be wearing. Fortunately, as a sample size, everything looked great on her. Her pale complexion contrasted perfectly with bold or bright colors, yet transformed into a solemn vision when she was robed in all white. From beaded shift dresses to mink coats and stoles, marbled knits, and pleated chiffon, Jane cherished them all and wore them to perfection.

The boutique really did feel like paradise sometimes, with the most beautiful décor, clothes, and people passing through. The surroundings had to fit the immaculate wares. Floor to ceiling windows—there were two stories and a mezzanine—with windowpanes traced in delicate gold. Dark wood paneling and lush velvet provided contrast. But the most striking feature of the shop, arguably, was the natural lighting. When the shop opened, the sunlight started to leak in, making everything in the front display case glow and glisten. The effect was especially striking when beaded gowns or Swarovski accessories were placed up there—almost blinding. Around lunch, the sharp light mellowed to a more neutral light, but it flooded the whole store, down to the back seating area and the alcove headed to fitting. By the time the girls prepared to close, golden hour reveled in its full glory before giving way to the the deep oranges and reds of the city sunsets.

Days passed quickly at the shop; there was always some excitement going on, some new style arriving or some problem that, of course, money could solve. Shoppers came in for showstopping pieces for galas, balls, or the occasional Bar Mitzvah. Bored housewives came in for the new Chanel two-piece sets to try to shake the doldrums of another summer wasted drinking martinis at Soho House. Desperate stockbrokers stopped in to find a gift for the fiancée-to-be, upset girlfriend, or dissatisfied wife, lingering nervously by the jewelry case or the boudoir at the back. Trust fund girls, always in small cliques or with their eternally unimpressed mothers, tried on the new Prada or Hermès for their return to boarding school abroad. If they were particularly lucky, they’d leave with new Gucci loafers or a sparkling new Birkin, in that season’s carefully selected color—this year it was mauve.

The shopgirls attentively helped all that passed through, offering them a beverage, a seat on a plush pouf or a personalized tour of the freshest styles. They assured every customer that each piece was basically tailor-made for them, from fit to aesthetic to particular event.

“Yes, every girl in New York is fawning for this bag, but sadly not every girl can have it. There’s a waiting list a mile long but we should be able to make an exception!”

“You definitely cannot start the school year without a new anorak! Especially as a freshman—your first impression is key!”

“I know your fiancé would love it! Who doesn’t just die for canary diamonds?”

And of course, if there was the slightest inconsistency of fit, the on-call tailor could make adjustments and have it ready as soon as it was needed. (“Essentially bespoke!”) They could take a little bit in at the waist, let it out a touch at the hip, and voila, it'd fit like a glove and transformed any average pedestrian into the belle of the ball.

This particular summer, however, had been somewhat slow, perhaps slower than usual. Miranda and Cynthia did seem unusually distracted. In between clients, Miranda would hug the counter, locked to a computer screen, reviewing the numbers of the day, the week, the season. Cynthia would browse catalogs, make calls to clients and designers, and feverishly rotate displays. These were all normal tasks, though the pace they were done in was with a speed and anxiety bordering on insanity.

And despite all of this on their to-do list, they couldn’t help but dedicate hours to gossiping and bemoaning their poor situation. They’d express distress at their regular clientele’s increasing cheapness and lack of taste. They’d suggest that perhaps they were shopping somewhere else on the strip, with the agitated paranoia of a suspicious lover. Even worse, they’d mention the possible exodus to Brooklyn.

“I’ve heard that Smith Street has become quite the shopping destination.” “But how, it is so far from everything. Truly in the middle of nowhere.” “I read that Jil Sander will be expanding out there. And Celine as well.” “But everything is right here! I couldn’t possibly imagine crossing the East River to shop designer. That is not a luxury experience.”

Jane had to agree. Everybody and everything was on Fifth Avenue. Whatever they were cobbling together in Brooklyn had to be second rate, and while their clients might be demonstrating a hot flash of infidelity, it would quickly become clear that there was no substitute for the original.

But even with this confidence—and however delusional or desperate it was—the shopgirls couldn’t help but be nervous. They continued to change the displays, anxiously research for more new designers, and for a whole afternoon in a true moment of weakness, even considered implementing sales. But the strategy they kept circling back to was a renovation. Ceiling to floor—it all had to go! It was old, stale, passé, and was the reason their clientele was deserting them for fresh, hip Brooklyn. They simply weren’t satisfied with the old-fashioned experience they were getting here—or so Miranda and Cynthia thought. No matter how fabulous the clothes they had on the racks, the dust and gloom of an outdated interior tainted them.

Jane couldn’t disagree more. Their set up was classic, refined, chic, and had always worked for them. There was no reason to completely abandon what was their staple, what had cemented them as a formidable purveyor of haute couture on Fifth Avenue. Yet, Miranda and Cynthia were not hearing it. All of their previously frenetic tasks gained a new fire behind them, with the goal of a total update by the end of the season their driving force. Fresh paint, swapping wood for stainless steel, and floor-to-ceiling mirrored paneling were just some of the ambitious undertaking. Bright white would replace the soft velvet that accented the wall and the gold trim removed. Finally, the overall layout and organization would be reconfigured to "optimize the flow," as Cynthia put it. In the end, Jane really didn’t have much say. Miranda’s father was their sole investor so she ultimately made the final call. The renovation was scheduled for August.

They were closed for a month while the store was gutted. They planned to reopen right before Labor Day Weekend, a pivotal time that saw the intersection of lastminute vacations, lingering glimpses of summer, and the anticipation of cool fall leaves and back-to-school excitement. Everybody would be shopping. During the haitus, Jane wasn’t really sure what to do with herself. The whole time she’d been at the store, they’d never closed for such a long period of time. August passed in a haze of gloom and desperation, only uplifted by the occasional passerby outfitted in the latest haute couture. (“Pierre Cardin? No, Paco Rabanne.”) But even fashion could not cure her depression. She could feel the clutter and disarray of the store in her bones. How it must feel to have strangers trampling through her, tearing at her walls and clawing at her foundations. The delicate touch of the shopgirls was replaced with the aggression of a demolition derby. She could feel the dust at her feet, filling the room, making it hard to breathe. She counted down every day with increasing desperation.

Jane kept busy convincing herself the renovation was a good thing. She envisioned how busy the shop would be after the face-lift, as Miranda and Cynthia kept referring to it. She fantasized about the fashions that would flood the room, with new Manhattan socialites spending lazy afternoons there, drowning in chiffon, champagne, and credit cards. With a higher flow of customers, they’d need a more rapidly shifting inventory. Designers that had seemed too far from reach for a small boutique would soon be clamoring to have their pieces hang in their hallowed halls. By the end of the month, Jane had evolved to feeling cautiously optimistic that this was the move needed to revitalize the shop.

Finally the day came, and the store was complete. The soft opening was held on a steamy summer night. Colleagues and clients flocked to the shop, and a quartet filled the space with soothing concertos. Champagne overflowed and the evening glow made the sparkling new space feel magical. Finally, Jane admitted that Miranda and Cynthia were right. This renovation was necessary. Even though the month before had been draining and depressing, this revamped space would usher in a new Renaissance for the shop. The outcome for the party was evidence enough. The cherry on top was the glittering Tom Ford frock Jane was adorned in for the celebration. Gleaming black paillettes glistened over an organza shift, just barely, suggestively sheer. Black strappy patent Louboutins and sterling silver jewelry topped off the look. Jane looked as radiant as the shop itself.

The next day was business as usual. Jane was the first one in, as was her routine. Miranda and Cynthia arrived a little later, still tipsy from the success of last night’s gala, but soon sobered by the harsh realities that daytime brings. They took stock of the cost of the event—a couple thousand for the quartet, a few hundred for the canapés….at least two thousand for the Dom Perignon—but it was all worth it for the exposure. The clientele, the PR, movers and shakers, and the exorbitantly wealthy had descended from their lofts to see them and they were sure that they’d be seeing the uptick at any moment.

And they did—today was busy, busier than it had been all year. Mainly school outfits, but a lot of them gifted, and most of them coupled with blouses and shearling and stilettos for the heavy spenders. Jane’s tartan attire was the perfect fit to entice them in; a neat patterned suit atop a crisp satin top. The skirt was a wrap style featuring exposed selvedge and heavy hardware. Chunky silver accessories completed the look. At least three girls left with the same outfit, styling and all, for their upcoming trips across the country for boarding school. Jane almost couldn’t believe it—it was like clockwork, exactly as Miranda and Cynthia had said. By the end of the week their profits were higher than ever before and all of their spirits were invigorated.

“But there’s still something off,” said Miranda suspiciously, surveying the store as they prepared for closing, “I can’t help feeling that we missed something.” Cynthia looked confused and Jane couldn’t believe that there was something amiss—everything had gone so perfectly. As they flicked off the lights and headed out the door, Miranda exclaimed “I got it! But it’s a quick fix, we’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

A large delivery arrived at the store the next morning. A loading truck taking up at least two parking spaces dropped off a pallet stacked with tall cardboard boxes and wrapped snugly in saran. As the deliverymen busied themselves with releasing the contents of the delivery, Miranda and Cynthia hurried about the store. It took a moment for Jane to realize what they were doing. A pile of clothes towered on a new chaise in the center of the room, having been carelessly discarded. Miranda and Cynthia bustled in and out of the shop, heading out towards the back as if they were competing in a potato sack race, encumbered by their carriage. As they returned from the back, Cynthia pointed out their last target and they headed to the front, stepping carefully onto the raised platform of the main display window.

Miranda flew straight for the zipper, undoing it in with a fluid gesture, while Cynthia deftly undid the buckles on the heels. The jewelry flew into a plushly lined container and the tartan suit found itself on a hanger, ready for repressing. The right cuff of the blouse was just a touch too tight, so Miranda tugged at it impatiently. Jane’s arm tumbled to the ground, still entangled in the blouse. Miranda yanked the blouse by the other end, freeing it, and cast it aside.

Together they collected Jane and her arm, and carried them towards the back of the store. As she went through the doorway, Jane caught the flash of bright steel—a gleaming new figure had been freed from its cardboard prison and was now proudly standing in the front platform. Her platform.

She had been in the store longer than anyone, had worked with Miranda’s father when he still managed the shop, was in earlier and later than anyone else. She was beautiful, statuesque and unwavering. She was hard-working. She was essential. And yet, she was being cast out like garbage, like last year’s fashions.

“I can’t believe these have been in the shop for over twenty years,” lamented Miranda, surveying the haphazard collection of limbs spilling out of the dumpster.

Performance Review

Date:

Geography: Commute:

October 15, 2022 Pennsylvania:19%

Thank you to all who submitted.

Participants almost exclusively reside in the US

New York: 39% UK: 1%

Illinois: 2%

Colorado: 1% California: 19%

South Carolina: 1%

New Jersey: 5%

Delaware: 11%

Washington DC : 1%

Average is 25 minutes (national is 26.6 minutes)

Drive: 32.2% Public Transit: 28.8%

Work fromHome: 20.8% Walk: 16.9%

Bike: 1.7%

Do you like your job enough to recommend it to a good friend?

Conecticut: 1% YES 71.2%

NO 28.8%

What do you enjoy most about your work?

remote work impact

What do you dislike most about your work?

coworkers working outside problem solving getting paid compensationrepetitive tasks dealing with peopleworkload commute poor management disorganization

How much time do you spend in the bathroom at work?

81.4% less than 30 minutes a day 15.3% between 30 minutes and and hour a day 3.4% try not to go at all

Only 34.5% would dare to live out the American dream (aka kill their boss)

70% said a COMPUTER was their most valuable tool

BODY/HAND and PHONE

followed very distantly by BRAIN,

How would you rate your work / life balance on a scale of 1-10?

1 being total disarray and 10 being perfect harmony

How would you rate your own performance on a scale of 1-10?*

*1 being poor and 10 being excellent.

How would you rate your manager’s performance on a scale of 1-10?*

Life is about more than work, would you agree?

Yes,

The next time someone asks who you are and what you do, please remember we are more than our jobs. Can we all agree to think a little bit harder about this?

Yes,

This doesn’t mean work cannot be rewarding. If you never had to earn a living again, what are some things you would be excited to work on? Feel free to elaborate as much as you want.

I would love to take up art that is rooted in nature and be outside more and appreciate the natural world - Yoga, meditation,sports, art, music- My nature photography - Making a homeand traveling the world - Gardening - Eliminating foodwaste and other forms of waste besides just energy - Workingon a machine shop making whatever the hell I want (maybefurniture?), get into blacksmithing, sculpting/ceramics,woodworking - maybe running a coffee shop - Environmental justice for underprivileged areas and communities - My own designbrand meanswear cute stuff that I would want to wear every day

ACROSS

New York’s sixth borough

With 15-down, 2022 movie trend; ex: EEAAO

Non-private work chat option

Montaña del ____, al norte de Neuva York

Inflation made this a dollar fifty

Paper treatment that adds dimension

“I’m on vacation” shorthand

Lost in the _______

Give this to quit

Michael Scott

The original seasonal sickness

Are you sure you

live here?? city on New York tax forms

Delicious solid torus

Popular video service used by 5-down

Usually 4 - 7

E-street band frontman, and a clue to the highlighted

DOWN

5-down was caught doing this on zoom

Hi-_____ image

Eon

Curcurbits often used for pickling, informally

This Jeffrey did 1-down in a virtual meeting

Not local

Kaiser ______

Ewe bone in hole

Farm-to-______

Gwent, Five Finger Fillet, etc.

Shuttered Brooklyn civic club

This org. sent a cease & desist to Ben Gibbard

To keep count

Baby fox

Not odd

Forklift certification org.

With 30 across, 2022 movie

ex. Dr Strange sequel

BK - based rap trio

Bart attempts to jump this in S2E8

Not under

Asstd.

Rug type

Not hers

The right number

classifieds & more

FIRING SQUAD

You told us your scariest stories

*Names have been changed

Spike S: I tried work ing for an EMS compa ny in SF. They fired me because I couldn’t lift a 300-pound patient up 3 flights of stairs. They said they would give me 2-3 weeks to train, and instead they fired me.

Jet B: I didn’t share the same political opinions as my co-workers at a record store. They all supported the war against Iraq.

Faye V: It was gender discrimination at a job with a poor training curriculum.

«continued below

Loid F: When told my boss I was finally getting a kidney transplant, they fired me the next day.

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BUG?

Spotted Lanternfly Lycorma delicatula

KILL ON SIGHT

Yor B: I was 16 and working at a pizza buffet. The owner, a middle-aged man, was horrible. There was nev er enough staff, managers would steal from the till, and the owner would keep all the tips that were meant to be split at the end of the night. He said it was for a “staff party” but there was never a staff party in the 3 years this restaurant was open. When I first started it took 3 months to get my first paycheck because the owner “forgot” to put my information in the system. I should have quit right then but it was my first job and I didn’t know any bet ter. One day in the middle of a lunch rush, too many people were let in and there were not enough clean tables for everyone to sit, my boss asked me to stop bussing tables and to vacuum the floors in the over crowded dining room. When I said “no, I’m a little busy right now” he asked me if I was “giving him attitude.” I didn’t reply because I knew I did not have anything polite to say to him. He repeated himself and again asked if I was giving him attitude. I just stopped what I was going, glared at him and said “yeah. I am”. He got PISSED and then just said “out you go”. I had no idea what he meant by this so I kept working and he stopped me. He repeated himself again and said “Out you go!! You’re fired.” I responded, saying “Fine. You don’t even know how to run your own fucking business anyway” and threw the plates I was clearing into the trash, and walked out. As I walked away he yelled out “you shut your mouth!” And I yelled back, loud enough for the dining room to hear “Fuck you, I don’t fucking work here anymore!” then I clocked out and left. The restaurant closed a few months later, and has since reopened under new ownership.

meet the authors

Jordan: Often seen at Grove News Corner, buying 2 energy drinks at once. Don’t talk to him until he’s had his microplastics. Always online, always tired.

two-bit's,starwarspinball

Susi: known to sit in her car for at least 10 minutes before work, mix CBD and black coffee during, and haunt the aisles of Mom’s Organic Market after.

Imagine not doing something creative with your friends.

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143 ~ Stay Based

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