Where's Your Deliverer Now?

Apparently at Village Inn.

After much prayer and study and discussion, the Boss is telling the Golden Arches to fly the proverbial kite. Work conditions had been steadily declining ever since a new supervisor was hired to oversee her store. I do not use the word "oversee" lightly.

This miserable son of a beggar has reduced my sweet wife to tears so often that I can hardly stand to think about it. After fifteen years of dedicated service to that company, she had always been a favored employee. She rose on merit and did everything they asked her to. Her sales were always on the increase, but when this no-talent hack of a clown got promoted he decided that she wasn't what he wanted.

Suspiciously, about a week after she told them that she could not go to a week long training course at Hamburger U because of the uncertain condition of my health, she stopped getting compliments and started getting write-ups instead. He wrote her up because even though she met his stated goal for labor costs, she had failed to read his mind and know that he was really expecting her to hit a percentage lower. He didn't bother to tell her this, he just expected her to guess, and wrote her up anyway.

That was when we knew it was time to go. We weren't alone. There has been a mass Exodus of managment ever since this idiot took over, and I have a suspicion that the Boss may be the straw that breaks this Donkey's back. I would love to think that us leaving would cost him his job. To be honest though, neither the Boss or I care. I stand with my favorite "Joe Vs the Volcano" reference.

When Joe quits his job, he tells his boss, "I ought to rip your throat out. But I'm not going to. Because instead; I'm leaving you here...And what could be worse than that?"

So yesterday, she was in a meeting with the Idiot, and he wrote her up again, for some vague failure to meet his impossible expectations. Talk about bad timing. Ten minutes before he darkened her doorway, Village Inn had called the Boss and offered her a position that starts at the same wage she's getting from the Clown after fifteen years.

She came home and we prayed about it and got a sure answer before we could even get to the Amen.

I don't know where I am going to wind up when all is said and done, but I do know this. The Boss is going to be selling pies instead of fries; and I have eaten the last Big Mac of my life. I am a bitter, bitter grudge holder. I have not set a foot inside a Macey's grocery store in ten years. When I quit that dump, I washed my hands of it. I don't care how good their caselot is, I'll never shop there again. Same thing for Mickey D's. My kids have had their last happy meal.

And with that, Joshua blew his horn, and on the fifteenth anniversary of the worst decision the Boss ever made, she had finally removed herself from Egypt and the cruel lash of the task master's fries.

Happy anniversary, baby.

Free at last, Free at last.

WoooooooooooHoooooooooooooooooo!