Get off my shift, I was gifted by a customer an entire 7 inch rolled-cone cigarette packed to the brim with some interesting, premium selection. So premium, that the smell is made very apparent through a storage locker, the locker-room and the entire store-front. This normally isn’t an issue, because I work alone and I keep my shit separate, but I was given a beautiful gift and how could I say no?

Well. I am closing up and my jacket is in the locker-room. I shut the door and I heard a familiar click. No fucking way. Alright, I have experience with plying locked doors. No problem here. Next up, I trigger the alarm and the entire police and fire department is being called. I message my manager, tell hem what happened; everything is good there. Anyways, I am on my way home, seething and venting and I realized the entire time I butt-dialed my manager at midnight.

Am I in a perpetual Clerks episode? I genuinely wonder if I’m a living example of Ohm’s Law. Normally, I don’t give a fuck but it’s genuinely comedic that my life is a catalogue for the absurd.