After 10 years of me (F 28) begging my partner (M28) to stop soliciting sex behind my back I am finally leaving. I don’t have an ounce of trust left for him and honestly I get the worst feeling he’s been sleeping with other people behind my back. He’s become so sneaky and honestly just a liar. He lies about everything so you can’t take word for anything. I’ve finally had enough. My self esteem is in the trenches but I have to leave for my kids and my sanity. I deserve better and I realize that his behavior is not normal nor should I live an anxiety filled life constantly trying to catch him cheating. I’ve caught him on dating apps, posting naked photos, messaging other men and women, looking for escorts and even messaging them to meet up, leaving in the middle of the night and he’s lied about his location so I’m pretty sure he has met them. I usually make excuses for him, stay, and take his word about seeing therapy or whatever he feeds me but he never follows through and just keeps doing the same things. I’ve allowed him to really run me into the ground just so he could do these things. I felt at times he was just doing the bare minimum to say he was a good person against these allegations. I’ve been a wonderful mom and partner to him and his family. I did it sleep deprived, tired, hungry, spent my last dollar on him constantly going above and beyond for birthdays and holidays and constantly got bare minimum from him. I’ve allowed him to make me believe I wasn’t good enough for far too long. And I just don’t deserve how he’s done me. Someone who truly loved me wouldn’t be looking for sex outside their relationship constantly. It’s a struggle a lot to do on my income alone but I am picking up a second job to make sure I can care for kids and myself. I’m afraid how the kids will feel about us separating but it’s necessary for us to do so. I’ve strapped a metal rod to my spine and just keep repeating all the bad things to remind myself to not give in or go back on my word.
TL;DR After 10 years of my partner cheating behind my back by being on dating apps, posting naked photos, messaging people for sex men and women,lying about his location and asking to meet up with escorts I am finally leaving. And just constantly lying. I have finally realized I deserve better and cannot keep allowing him to tear my self esteem down.

Hi everyone,
I’ve been a nanny for several years and I’ve recently started picking up weekend babysitting jobs to make some extra money. I had a terrible experience yesterday and I’m having a hard time sitting with it.
A mom saw my ad on a nanny fb group and messaged me. She said she has 3 kids, ages 9, 5, and 4 and needed occasional help. I told her I was available and she said we would set something up.
She text me the next day at 9am saying that she needed a last minute sitter at noon. I was available and honestly needed money so I agreed. After agreeing, she told me that another nanny would be there when I got there. I thought it was very odd that I wasn’t going to meet mom before watching the kids but I went anyways.
I showed up to a very exhausted looking nanny, 3 high energy kids, and a messy house. The nanny introduced me to the kids and left. I started talking to the kids and realized that 5yo is neurodivergent and nonverbal. Ok, another red flag. Mom did not mention this. I have experience with kids on the spectrum so I was prepared but I felt blindsided.
Later, I smelled something bad. I realized it was coming from nk5. I text mom asking if he wears diapers. She says “yes! Sorry, forgot to mention it!” Ugh. So many red flags. At this point I had decided that I definitely wouldn’t be working for them again. I changed nk5s diaper.
Our day is going pretty well. I can tell that these kids have very little structure but they’re all sweet and wanted to play with me. We were playing at a water table outside when nk4 and nk9 started to argue. Nk4 grabbed nk9s hair and would not let go. I got his hands free and carried him inside. I locked the back door so he couldn’t go after his older sister and all hell broke loose. He started attacking me. Punching, kicking, and scratching. When I moved away he chased after me. This was not a typical tantrum.
I called mom, she told me to put him in his room with an iPad. The whole phone call, he’s hitting and scratching me. Then, NK5 starts hitting me too! I think he was just copying his brother. Mom said someone would come soon so I could leave. I got off the phone, put him in a room with his iPad and he finally calmed down. I left him alone. About 30 minutes later, the doorbell rang. It wasn’t mom! It was another nanny! I asked her if she had worked for them before and she said yes. I told her what happened and advised her to keep the peace until mom got home.
I left with scratched arms and a pit in my stomach. The whole experience felt off. Those children are clearly not getting the support they need and it seems like mom just cycles through nannies. I’m not going back. After consulting for a friend who works for CPS, she agreed that the situation is not good but that their needs are being met and CPS likely would not intervene in this scenario.
I feel bad. I know I’m going to be thinking about those kids for a long time. My heart hurts. Any advice or insight would be greatly appreciated.

I think a lot about signals. Signals that show people what groups they belong to. Signals that hide the truth. Everybody uses signals to blend, entice, or trap.
Grandma Pearl died not long after her stroke, and I've been making bad decisions ever since. Maybe my expectations are too high, or I'm just an idiot. Either way, I ran away from the group home to be with people who called themselves my "family." They were the wrong people. They used the words family, brother, sister, and love like lock picks, stealing trust, and taking self-respect.
The only person I remember using the word family correctly was Grandma Pearl. She was a small woman who toured the US as an actress before settling with Granddad above their theatrical rentals shop. I was three when the car accident took Granddad and Mom, so I don't know if they used the word "family" correctly, but I hope they did.
I was never as outgoing as Grandma, but that didn't bother her; she taught me how to watch people. How to see their signals, and how to listen. When she died. I forgot a lot of those lessons for a while.
They called it a "family". The "family" moved product. That product could be goods, drugs, or people.
The uninitiated, like me, were distracted with food and a dry place to sleep, but it didn't take long to see behind the curtain. Things got too intense with the new "family" and I ran.
I ran back to my old neighborhood. The buildings were familiar even if my home was gone. The old theatrical shop had been turned into a microbrewery.
After an appropriate amount of self-pity, thirty minutes, I wandered the alleys, picking up cans or scavenging for bits and pieces that could be recycled, used, or bartered.
I recognized old faces, but I tried to stay out of sight. It was safer that way.
The only place I allowed myself to be seen was the old Lutheran church on the park's far side. Most people who might have known me had aged out of the congregation or died. It was worth the risk because St. Lazarus had a food pantry in the basement and gave out lunches most days, so I wasn't always hungry, which was nice.
I found a dry spot near the library to sleep, which seemed like a stroke of luck until it wasn't.
I had the contentment that came with being in a familiar place. Little bits of comfort let me believe, for a moment, that I wasn't a screw-up and hadn't trusted the wrong people. That moment scurried away when Stick found me.
Stick was a scary asshole. He technically wasn't in charge of the " family," but he made it work. He got things done. I have no idea how old he was. He was all corded muscle and could clock in between twenty and fifty. He looked half-starved and moved like a stalking predator, even with his limp.
His left leg was stiff. The knee didn't bend, and anytime he sat, his left leg would be splayed to the side like a kickstand on a bike. The leg was why he walked with a cane. The cane and how he used it was why we called him Stick.
I don't know why he took the time to track me down. It's not like I was wanted. Maybe it was that I had become property. Property shouldn't just wander off.
Sometimes, you feel a person before you see them. The air is different. When Stick was around, the air felt dead and motionless. I knew I was being watched before I opened my eyes.
Stick was sitting on a milk crate, his bad leg cocked to the side and his forehead resting on his cane. I pushed myself out from beneath the ductwork of the HVAC unit I had been sleeping under and slapped the dirt off my jeans.
"I thought that was you," Stick said as his sharp grin curved up to his unblinking dark eyes.
Stick wanted my discomfort. I'd seen him play the intimidation game too many times. He'd act too friendly, and then when you were good and worried, quick movements, a hand around the back of your neck, and violence would be next. Then he'd act like the whole mind fuck was a big joke, like you were friends, and isn't it great that you can joke around with someone who "really" cared.
It worked, too. If you were the unfortunate focus of Stick's attention, you would be grateful when he smiled and said, "Just a joke, kid. Don't be so sensitive." I'd seen the pattern enough times to know Stick trained people like dogs with his hot and cold game. I didn't like the game, or the fear, so I changed the pattern.
"Hey, Stick, did you come to help pick up cans?" I asked, making sure my smile reached my eyes. I was trying to be pleasant while ignoring the burning nervousness in my gut.
It was still dark out, but I could see Stick's expressions well enough.
Stick tapped his cane on the sidewalk and squinted at me skeptically before answering. "Just checking on my little brother."
We were not related.
Stick liked to call the uninitiated his little brothers or little sisters. He forced intimacy into his language. I didn't argue the point. Interactions went best with Stick when you agreed with everything he said.
"Thanks, man," I complimented, trying to sound genuine and ignorant as I stepped forward and offered him my hand.
Stick didn't move, but I could see that this conversation wasn't going as planned for him, and I forced myself not to react to his confusion. I couldn't break character, or he would know I was playing him.
Stick tapped his cane on the ground twice, grasped my hand, and stood. He watched me. I held his stare, but in an open, naive, guileless way that I had perfected in front of the mirror as grandma gave acting advice while she put her face on.
I once asked Grandma Perl why anyone would practice acting stupid. She pointed her mascara brush at me and, in her ditsiest Minnesota Nice character, said, "It's easier to be forgiven when people think you're a little dumb, don't ya know?" Like with most things, Grandma was right.
Before I understood what had happened, Stick pulled me into his side and slung an arm around my shoulder.
"You don't have a name yet. Everyone gets a name, but they don't get to pick it." He paused and gave me a Cheshire cat grin. "I have a name for you, little brother. You are going to be called Slide." Then he held my chin and forced eye contact." Your name will be Slide because I have never seen anyone slide out of shit faster than you. I can't tell if you do it on purpose or not, and I've been watching. I watch everybody. You do, too. Hell, this might be the first time I've ever heard you talk. So let's celebrate your name, Slide." Stick's smile slipped as he pulled me out of the alley. "We'll go do something special."
I stayed silent, knowing full well what was coming. Being named meant doing something you could never take back. It was public and would put you in prison if the police ever took the time to look for you. It meant severing yourself from your life before and relying entirely on the "family." I had been absent each time naming seemed to be in the cards, but I couldn't duck out this time.
There was only one place to go at this time of night that would have an impact, the Bodega.
The Bodega was a red hole in the wall with a glass door papered over with grocery ads years outdated. Canned salmon two for one seemed to be the dominant theme. Although there were two large windows, one on either side of the door, you could barely see in. The right window was a tapestry of cigarette promotions. The left window displayed the only swath of uncovered glass with a view of the interior. From the outside, the view was of tobacco, lottery scratchers, and Old Lady Imitari.
Old Lady Imitari owned the store. She was a short, dark-haired woman who always wore a long floral tank top. Grandma Pearl loved the old woman but said Imitari looked like an old man's thumb all the years she had known her, and Grandma moved to the neighborhood with Grandad thirty years ago. Imitari was a local legend even then because the Bodega was open twenty hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year, and no one else worked in the store. Grandma used to make an extra strong coffee called Barako and chat with Imitari sometimes when work in the shop was slow.
I would sneak out at night and try to catch Imitari sleeping. No matter the time, I never caught her snoozing, and she always saw me peeking at her through the window. I know she saw me because she would uncross her arms and wave her flyswatter at me.
All these memories flicked through my mind as Stick smiled his too-wide smile and pushed me into the Bodega.
Imitari flicked her fly swatter at me in acknowledgment, and her attention returned to the small TV she had nestled beside the cash register, which seemed to be the old woman's only real tether to the world outside her shop.
The inside of the Bodega was just a long hallway with shelves of convenience foods, drinks, home supplies, candy, and cold meds covering every available surface from floor to ceiling. The only break in the tunnel of products was the glass counter at the back corner of the store; Imitari presided over her mini domain by casually ignoring her shoppers. I tried to make eye contact with the old woman again as Stick pushed me to the back of the shop, but after her initial acknowledgment of our entrance, Imitari's eyes stayed focused on her TV.
As casually confident as possible, I walked to the cooler and grabbed an iced tea. "Want a drink," I asked over my shoulder, my voice unusually steady, given the electric current of anxiety flowing through me.
Stick sneered and tapped his cane twice on the ground. His eyes found all the security cameras in the tiny store, a frown creasing his angular features.
I followed his line of sight and finally realized what had bothered him. The cameras were fake. They looked like security cameras, but they weren't. There were no wires or lenses, just rectangles and circles in a security camera shape.
Stick took a deep breath and tapped his cane on the ground again. " There… is … so… much… here… to… see… but… no… one… is… watching," he said with a singsong. Then his sneer turned into a cruel smile.
I knew Stick wanted an audience for what he would force me to do. The fact that the security cameras were fakes meant that whatever was going to happen would now have to be significant. An event that the neighborhood wouldn't be able to ignore. My stomach twisted with the thought.
Stick waggled his eyebrows at me. He had been watching. He had seen my thoughts, and we both knew he had something terrible in mind.
The cane twirled in Stick's hand and then tapped twice on the shop tile.
"I think I want a little bit of this," Stick said, gesturing wildly with his cane, sending a row of soup cans tumbling to the floor. "And a little bit of that," Stick added as another wild gesture sent cups of ramen spinning and knocking glass bottles of hot sauce to the floor.
I stood paralyzed, unable to run. I was trapped with nowhere to duck away to. I didn't want Stick to hurt Old Lady Imitari, and I didn't want Stick to hurt me, either. The truth was, he would hurt both of us no matter what I did. That was just the way Stick was. I'd seen him. I'd seen him show us who he was every day.
Then I realized Imitari hadn't moved. She was watching her TV and chuckling at the sitcom as if nothing had happened.
Stick glanced at me, confused. I almost felt sorry for the sociopath. His night was not going to plan.
Imitari chuckled at her TV again, and a crease formed in the middle of Stick's forehead, letting me know that he was beyond angry. He was calm, dangerous, and vicious. People had been left for dead when Stick got this way.
Stick raised his cane and flipped it so the handle jutted like a pickax. He was going to attack Imitari.
Somehow, I moved. I didn't do much, but when I slid forward and grabbed the back of Stick's shirt, the cane missed Imitari, and the sharp handle punctured the thick glass top of the counter just above a roll of Lotto scratchers.
Old lady Imitari slowly looked up into Stick's eyes and smiled. Her wide, gentle frown was replaced with a look of joy and something else, something primal, something hungry. Her pupils were blown, and I had the uneasy feeling that I was watching someone be served their absolute favorite meal.
Before Stick could pull his cane from the punctured glass, Imitari casually reached forward, grabbed the cane, and pulled the wirey man forward. Small, old, and wrinkled, Imitari stared into Stick's eyes and overpowered him.
Stick fell forward across the counter. He tried to push himself back, but Imitari's hand clamped down on his wrist like a vice.
Bones ground together as Imitari pulled Stick's hand to her mouth, and with a swift, subtle movement, she bit off the tips of Stick's pinky and ring finger like she was sampling a cookie.
I jumped back next to the cooler as a thin spray of blood arched toward me.
Stick screamed and thrashed, but Imitari's small form was static and immovable. Stick was a fly in a trap. No matter how much he struggled, punched, poked, or kicked, he could not break the old woman's hold. Then, slowly, she took another bite.
It was strangely fascinating watching the frail form of this old woman I had known for years take bite after bite out of Stick. This man, whom I thought of as a predator, a hunter, an enforcer, was crying and begging while an old woman, who looked like a wrinkled thumb in a floral top, quietly devoured him.
I was surprised by the lack of blood after the first spray. I'm sure it was Imitari's crushing grip that stanched the flow of blood. The flesh of Stick's arm looked white from the pressure.
Hand over hand, Imitari pulled Stick forward. Bones cracked as she gripped higher on Stick's arm, clamped down with her long leathery fingers, and fed the flesh and bone, one concise bite at a time, into her open smiling maw. It was rhythmical in its simplicity: chomp, crunch, chew, chew, swallow. Over and over, the pattern continued until the begging stopped.
Stick wasn't dead. He gave up. Not struggling, he laid over the glass counter like a rag doll. He watched me glassily as Imitari took bite after bite, and I knew he wasn't there anymore. Whatever made Stick Stick had either curled up and hidden in a dark corner of his mind or had been devoured with his arm.
The old woman seemed displeased that her meal had stopped struggling. She shook him, but he flopped, and his head lulled from side to side. Imitari frowned, let go of Stick's arm, and pushed down on the limp man's back. Blood gushed from the ragged stump, and Imitari lowered her mouth and drank from the wound like she was sipping from a garden hose.
Stick didn't move. He just grew pail, and eventually, his panicked, shallow breaths ended, and the blood stopped flowing.
Then Imitari stood. With a quick tug, she pulled Stick's body over the counter and let it flop to the floor at her feet. Her eyes closed. A contented smile bloomed on her face as the explosive sound of crunching and cracking bones echoed through the small shop.
The deafening sound of crunching stopped, and only the buzzing of the drinks cooler reverberated through the small space. Imitari opened her eyes and watched me, a broad smile still on her lips. At that moment, I realized I could hear the drinks cooler so well because I had crawled into it, wedged between the glass door and the shelves.
Imitari held me with her gaze as cords of pink flesh lowered from the ceiling and efficiently tidied up Stick's mess, lapping up blood and hot sauce, placing cans on shelves, and scooping up cups of ramen with whip-like tendrils. Then, the cords of flesh nudged me forward, and I stood before Old Lady Imitari.
The thing that I had always thought of as a stern old woman handed me Stick's cane. With the same benign smile I remembered from buying red hots from it as a ten-year-old, it waved me away with its flyswatter, and the cords of flesh pushed me out the door onto the sidewalk.

THE 2000 YEAR OLD MAN (1975) - FULL TRANSCRIPT 2000 Year Old Man is an old Brooks-Reiner comedy routine turned into a half-hour animated TV special. Reiner, a TV reporter, interviews Brooks, a man claiming to be 2000 years old. The interview consists of a serious of questions regarding the history of the world. Brooks' answers to Reiner's questions are priceless.
About four days ago a plane landed at Idlewild Airport.
The plane came from the Middle East bearing a man who claims to be
2000 years old.
He spent the last six days at the Mayo Clinic.
Ei, sir.
Sir, is it true that you are 2000 years old?
Oh boy.
-Yes. -You are?
It's hard to believe sir because
in the history of man nobody has ever lived more than 167 years
wich a man from Peru claimed to be.
But you claim to be 2000?
I'll be, not yet. I'll be 2000, October 16th.
You will be 2000. When were you born?
We didn't have formal years and names and writing.
We didn't know. I see.
Nobody kept time.
See, we didn't know.
We didn't write. We just sat around, pointed in the sky
and said wow hot there wow.
-That's all they said? -We didn't even know it was the sun.
You really didn't know anything.
Anything, we were so dumb.
We didn't know who was a lady.
-But they were... -They were with us.
But we didn't know who they was
we didn't know who was the ladies and who was fellows.
You thought they were just different type of fellows.
Yes, stronger or smaller or softer.
The softer ones I think was the ladies all the time.
What about that? How did you find out?
Well, they are cute, a fat guy,
could you could have mistaken him,
soft and cute.
Who is the person who discovered the female?
Bernie.
Who was Bernie?
Bernie, one of the first leaders of our group.

• And he discovered the female?
• Yeah.
  
• How did that happen?
  
• Ladies, ladies here.
  

I'm very interested to find out how Bernie discovered the woman.
-Well, he... -How did he come to find?
One morning
he got up smiling. So he said:
I think there is ladys here.
I said, well, what do you mean, you know?
He said: 'cause in the night.
I was swelled and delighted, see?
So he went into such a story that
it's hundreds of years later, I still blush.
Could you give us the secret of your longevity?
Well, the major thing.
The major thing.
Is that I never, ever touch ripe food.
I don't eat it.
I wouldn't look at it and I don't touch it.
And and I never run for a bus.
There's always another.
Even if even if you're late for work.
You know, I never run for a bus.
I never ran.
I just stroll, jump it, slowly walk to the next bus...
Yeah, well but there were no buses at the time.

• No, in my... -Right.

In my time ahnn...
What was the means of transportation then?
-Mostly fear.
-Fear transported you? -Fear yes.
You could see.
A lion, he would would growl, you would go two miles a minute.
I'd like to find out about some social customs
the origination of social customs.
For instance, singing how that started?
Oh it stems from fear.
-Could you explain? -Because in the old days,
I said old days.
I don't mean the georgian cars.
-Did you.. -I mean rocks and caves...
I'm asking you, sir, how song...
Some song came about when you really had to communicate.
-But in trouble you couldn't say help. -Yes.
But have to use your mouth.
Yes, I know.
Hello.
-I mean, I wouldn't say help, I say good morning.
Yes. You're really...
you know you in trouble.

• But somebody said eeeh eeeeh. -That was the first song.
  
• I don't know.
  
• In other words, fear, right?
  

I was singing.
We thought happiness did.
Oh, and the song came out of it.
A lion is eating my foot off.
Somebody call a cop.
A lion is eating my foot off.
Somebody call a cop.
A lion is eating my foot off.
Somebody call a cop.
A lion is eating my foot of
Somebody call a cop.
Very interesting to hear the derivation of songs
The first songs,
the first songs were all the anthem songs.
We always thought...
We always thought...
Wanna hear an anthem song?
You had an anthem song?
We had a national anthem.
-What was the anthem? -Well, ah...
you see, was only fragment...
-Fragment? -It wasn't a nation.
-Yes. -It was cave, each cave. Yes.
Each cave had a national anthem.
You remember the national anthem of your cave?
Ok. I say I'll never forget it.
You don't forget a national anthem in a minute.
Let them go to the hell
except cave 76.
For instance, how did the custom of two people shaking hands
how the handshake come to be?
The handshake? As you know...
I don't, that's why I'm asking!
The handshake has also stemmed from fear.

• Everything seems to stem from fear.
• Of course.

Everything we do is based on fear.
-Even love? -Mainly love.
How can love stem from fear?
How can love stem from fear?
What do you need a woman for?
You know what you need for?
-In my time? -Yes.
To see if an animal is behind yourself,
you had to get eyes in the back of your head.
you take two eyes that is to be a lady.
I see.
You say, lady, you look behind me for a while.
And that was the first... the first marriages.
What if you take a look behind me ok?
How long you want?Forever, we are married.
You walked back to back to the rest of your life?
Yes. You only look at her once in a while,
when you knew you it was safe?
When I knew I was in a highground.
-The handshakes they started how?
-They started to see if the fellow had a rock
or a dagger in his hand.
Where is you hand? Hi, Charlie.
How you're doing Jumpy, where is you hand?
Then you open it and you look...
And you shook another one.
And that's the way the handshakes started.
Yes, the shake.
May have a stone or a marble to stick in your eye.
In the older days
you should get a snap and all.
How the dancing started?
-Dancing is the same thing. -Fear again?
Just fear. The only thing you could do with a hand
was to see if there was a rock or a marble
or rubber band or nail or something that would stick in your head.
Right. Ok.
But while imobilizing my hand
dancing gets to complete the imobilization.
Dance and keep the feet busy so he can't get you.
Yes, but I think most people are interested
in living a long and fruitful life.
-You mentioned? -Fruit is good food, you mentioned.
Fruit kept me going for 140 years once
when I... was on a very strict diet,
mainly nectarines, I love that fruit
half a peach, half a plum, such a hell of a fruit.
It's not too cold
Not too hot, you know, just nice.
-What if... -A rotten one?
That's how much I love. I'd rather eat a rotten nectarine than a fine plum.
-What do you think about? -I can understand that.
Yes, that's how much I love them.
-Yes, I can understand, sir. -Some good things.
What did you do for a living?
Well, many years ago, thousands.
There was no heavy industry.
We know that.
Most things that we manufactured or we made,
most things we ever made,
was we would make a take a piece of wood
and rub it, rub it and rub it and rub it
then clean it and look at it and hit right with it
and hit a tree with it.
-For what purpose? -Just to keep busy.
There was not. There was absolutely nothing to do, had no job.
What other jobs were there?
Must've been something else besides hitting a tree with
the knowledge, hitting a tree with a
piece of stick was already a good job.
You couldn't get that job.
Mainly was sitting and looking in the sky
was a big job
and another job was watching each other.
-And what language did you speak? -They spoke...
-Rock, basic rock. -Years before Hebrew.
Yes. 200 years before Hebrew was the rock language, the rock talk.
Could you give us an example of that?
Hey, you don't put that rock on me.
Hey, what you do with the rock?
Do you remember you remember your Hebrew sir?
Yes, I would just I think I remember fluent...
Because I understand the modern Hebrew is different from the...

• Yes. The difference in some of the

-phonetic alliteration paterns. -Yes.
Can we hear an example of the ancient Hebrew?
A very ancient Hebrew is...
Oh, hi there, hello.
Hello there. How are you.
-Hi. How are you. -That's English.
-Oh wait, wait. -You remember any Hebrew?
Very little.
I don't think I remember.
I must have forgot a great deal of it.
-I think you forgot it all. -Maybe all, yes.
Maybe all. Thousands of years since I needed it.
Now, sir, did you ever...
Did you ever have any formal job as we know it today?
Yeah, well, I was a manufacturer. I was owner.
What kind of a factory did you have?
I had a I used to make the star of David, Jew stars.
Making a little money?
Where's that? Yeah.
Soon as religion came in, I was one of the first in that.
I figured this was a good thing.
How did you make them? Did you have tools?
Well, we didn't have a lady.
I employed six men each with a point.
They used to run together in the middle of the factory
A great speed, it was huge.
They were making a star.
Yes. We would make two a day because of the many accidents.
Six men running and... you know.
Lots of accidents.
You never thought of going into anything else?
Oh, no, I had an offer once.
-It came to me. Simon. -What Simon asked you to do?
Said he had a new thing, a new item,
a winner, looks like a winning item.
That was gonna be a big seller is called a cross.
And I looked at it and I turned it over
and looked in all sides of it
and I said, it's simple. It's too simple.
I didn't know then. Element.
-I didn't know with such a -You turned him down?
and I said, I'm sorry, but I'm too busy.
See, I could have I could have fired four men,
two men run together, bang, that is a cross.
Would say that I would I would have earned
over a hundred dollars doing that crosses and everything.
Yes, certainly.
Do you have a few moments, sir?
What do you mean? Money or the time.
No, we have to cut way for messages now.
-Okay, let's do it. Is it in English? -Yes.
By the way, sir, are you married?
I have been married several hundred times.
-Several hundred times? -Yes.
You haven't, man. Do you remember all your wives?
-One I remember well. -Which one was that?
The five one, Shyla.
I remeber her well.
I'm afraid to ask the next question, you had many hundreds of wives...
-Hundreds and hundreds. -But how many children you have?
I have over forty two thousand children.
And not one comes to visit me.
It's awful, sir
well, sir, it's really you mean to say there isn't one daughter...
there's many daughters, but, but they
you know how they are, children.
Good luck to them, let them go.
I don't want listen, let them be happy as long they're happy
I don't care. But they could send a note
write how're you Pop how you're doing Pop
you know, they don't.
Sir... ahn, you must have known
some great men in your time, you did travel to...
I knew the greater and the near greater.
Can I ask you about some of these...
Certainly, I'll tell you the true
the true whether I knew or not.
For instance, people are people are
very interested in somebody like Joan of Arc.
A lot has been written about her, we read a lot...
Aah what a kiss.
You knew Joan of Arc?
I went for her, damn it, I went for her.
Nowhere in history do we know of Joan going with it anybody.
Well, they don't print everything.
You did marry her? No.
No. I didn't marry her because she was on a mission.
she used to say to me
she used to say to me, I've got to save France.
I should say I look.
I've got to wash up. You save France.
See you later after you save France. I'll wash up, you know.
-How did you... -Hold it, I... yet.
How did you feel about her being burned at the stake?
Terrible.
I didn't I didn't know.
Sir, how about some of the legendary characters
who supposedly might have existed?
For instance, Robin Hood.
-Did he...? -Oh, yeah. Lovely man.
Ran around in the forest.
Did he really steal from the rich and give to the poor?
No, he didn't.
He stole from everybody and kept everything.
Out of the legend?
Out of the legend let's bring up that
he had a fellow monk, hired a press agent
running all the paper and roll and scroll.
He takes from the rich and gives to the poor, who knew?
You knew you took such a knock in the head
when he robbed you wouldn't knock him down.
-In other words... -A tough guy.
I hate to have our legendary figures smashed
Well, I hate do smashing for you.
So much to discuss, for instance,
-somebody like William Shakespeare -Oh what a pussycat.
-You are saying that you knew -A pussycat.
You did know it, for instance
Oh, that little beard, that cute hair...
He was reputed,
I guess you are agreeing that he was the greatest writer of all times.
Oh no, hey, hold up he was small.
What you mean? You just said he was great.
-Oh boy!
-And I said he was great... -No sir.
A cute man and a pussycat.
William Shakespeare was not a great writer?
Not good writer at all.
He wrote 37 of the greatest.
Shakespeare was not a good writer, no.
He wrote 37 of the greatest.
Would you ever see the original the first folios?
You mean they were edited by someone else?
Never mind the edit, did you see the folios?
No, I never saw them. Did you see?
I saw that folios, your wanna see how they are?
A blast...
A 'm' you know that look like a 'D'
an 'M' didn't look like an 'M'
I know that is a 'V'
Every letter was cockeyed and crazy.
Don't tell me he was a good writer.
The worst printmanship I ever saw in my life.
What he did? He did as it was reputed,
he did write 37 of the greatest plays of...
-38! -I only know 37.
Would you care to look at this list sir?
These items are listed come down to the ages.
-You know one that should be there? -Yes.
What's that?
Queen Alexandra and Morris.
Is there any copy of this unexistent?
This is a play that I put invested money in.
Probably the only one that didn't come to light.
Come to light and closed in Egypt.
Sir, you remember...
you remember any of the dialogue of Queen Alexandra and Morris?
Queen Alexandra turn to Morris and said:
Oh, Morris. What could it have been that I have seen?
Is it not in my marrow or we not have one on ourselves?
And he would say to her:
What are you hollering?
What are you hollering?
-Sir, what... -Wake up the whole castle, you know.
Sir, what did you do 2000 years ago to entertain...
-Walk and wing. -I want to know wether...
-Were there comedians -Oh sure sure, we had.
You remember any of the... 2,000 years ago...
A matter of days, let me see.
I remember one comedian gave us some laughs
while we were hysterical.
Well, who is he? Some good laughs.
Murray the Nut. He gave us a laugh.
A tiger came in the cave one afternoon.
Soothed in uninvited naturally.
Nobody asked how a tiger did walk in.
Tiger came in and Murray, you know, the joker
the tumbling, you know, the Nut
jumps at and grabs the tiger by the tail
yahaa, yahaa, yahaa...
and the tiger turn around and ate him in a minute.
and we get histerical laughing and laughing.
Best joke we ever had.
Oh sir, that's not very funny.
That was all we have, our chaos then that was all we have.
Terrible, I would consider that...
Have to pass me out, Murray took the tiger.
-That was entertainment? -Yes.
I would consider that in the realm of tragedy rather than comedy.
It's a point of view, to me tragedy is... is
if I cut my finger, that's tragedy.
It clinch and I cry and I run around
and I go into Mount Sinai for a day and a half.
I'm very nervous about.
And to me comedy is if you walk into an open sewer
and die, I like that.
Comedy I say.
-My finger is important. -Yes
In the 2000 years you've lived, you've seen a lot of items.
Certainly.
What is the biggest change you've seen?
In two thousand years the greatest thing mankind ever devised
I think in my humble opinion is saran wrap.
You can put a sandwich in it.
You can look through it. You can touch
you can put over your face and fool around and everything.
It's so cool you could wrap up
-You would ate it? -I love it,
put three olives in it and put a little one.
can put ten sandwiches and make up this.
-Whatever you want, It's clean and it sticks with.
-You equate this with... -You can look right through.
You equate this with man's discovery of space?
That was good, that was good.
-Sir, we ah... -Yes, yes.
We have to take time out for message now.
Why do you have to take time out?
You take the message, I'll keep talking.
That was a good message.
Well, sir, if we don't have too much more time
but we all here would like to know your code.
Well, alright, is this it?
A farewell? -A farewell address.
Hello there. This is 2000 years talking to you
from the depths of back there when we was
now I'm still and they not and I just want to say
keep your smile on your face.
And stay out of a Ferrari
or any small Italian car.
stay out of them. I wanna tell you that it's been
it's been a wonderful two thousand years
and you've been a wonderful civilization
and it's been a thrill living for 2,000 years
and eat a nectarine, is the best food ever made.

I avoid anyone I can wherever I go, but I specifically avoid men since they've been the main ones to criticize men or my appearance.. and it feels like I have to avoid the world. It feels like I'm literally not allowed to interact with anyone so at that point what's the point of life???
The avoidance has become soo strong that I legit cannot leave the house without a hat or mask and even then I just don't want to leave the house. I don't want to be seen, I don't want people thinking about what's under my hat or mask, I don't want to hear people muttering under their breath about how I look, it just makes me hate being around people and ultimately it makes me hate being alive
Everyday I wake up I pray that somehow my face will sort itself out and Ic a finally say I NO LONGER HAVE TO BE IN THIS GOD AWFUL SUB ANYMORE, I CAN FINALLY LIVE! but years go by and I'm almost 30
I'm almost 30 and I have less value than a 7 year old... it's sad and pathetic, but it feels like there was never anything in my control I could do to have an enjoyable life where I can look people in the eyes and be treated as an equal
I deeply understand my mom because of how shitty her life was and is due to being ugly. Like with her feeling so helpless that she became addicted to many horrible substances that only make you look uglier and eventually affect your offspring, her being targeted and harassed at jobs, her being abused by men, her being treated like shit by most people and her not knowing why, but me understanding why, it's like looking in a mirror because the same signs that happened to her are happening to me and it really does make me resent her for having me. Because pretty much everything with her went wrong. She didn't have good genes, poor, and mental health issues and substance abuse issues that aren't her fault and the depression and hopelessness due to being ugly I'm sure caused that 100% but... having a child in those conditions is setting not only the child up for failure, but yourself because you wont be able to financially support them and both of your lives will be a pointless struggle
I'm currently homeless, but living with people who constantly smoke and while I'm grateful to not be completely on the streets... it's really not any better, because I can't escape the smoke... I think to myself constantly "how unlucky did I have to be to end up in this situation? ugly as fuck surrounded by people who are smoking which only makes you uglier but im so ugly I can't go anywhere outside to get away from it so I'm stuck inhaling this toxic shit and become uglier which will only make it harder for me to get a job and harder for me to be in a relationship or even make friends"
I can't even go on a walk to clear my mind because people are constantly mocking me for how I look. I can't go anywhere without people laughing at how I look or calling me ugly... and that point I feel stuck being in side. I feel stuck avoiding any and everyone just because of how ugly I am
And I can't see the possibility for a brighter future
Because I can't get or keep jobs due to being ugly and how badly I'm treated and so it feels like ill never be able to pay for surgeries to live a normal life
I'm damn near almost 40 and my life is not ONLY STUCK, but it's regressing and becoming worse as time goes on
I legit feel trapped being ugly and avoiding everyone just because of a face I never chose to have
Just a couple minutes ago a guy was standing beside me on the phone and he looked down at me and busted out laughing so hard. He went into the house with his friend and I'm sure he said "that's the ugliest dude I've seen" and they both started laughing
like for you genuinely truly ugly people out there you know this shit isn't in your head and it happens so much to the point you have to question "DAMN AM I REALLY THAT FUCKING UGLY?"
Like it's miserable and I can't put it into words how miserable it is because to someone whose passing by they'll see this as "JUST SOMEONE WHOS INSECURE AND TOO LAZY TO TRY IN LIFE"
BUT NO WHEN YOU'RE FUCKING UGLY YOU FEEL LIKE YOU CAN TRY AND TRY BUT NOTHING GOOD COMES OF IT
SOMETIMES YOU FEEL LIKE YOU CAN'T TRY OR DO CERTAIN THINGS BECAUSE OF BEING UGLY
LIKE IM NOT GOING BACK TO SCHOOL RIGHT NOW BECAUSE IM NOT COMFORTBALE WITH PEOPLE SEEING MY FACE AND MISTREATING ME ALL OVER AGAIN
IM NOT EXCITED ABOUT GOING TO SCHOOL TO EVNETUALLY GET A JOB TO BE TREATED LIKE SHIT BECUASE IM UGLY
ITS NOT MOTIVATING
ITS DISCOURAGING
and it makes me feel like im getting closer and closer to killing myself, someone else killing me, or just me dying of homelessness and starvation
because society literally wont let me be apart of it or be normal

Very wet conditions at times today, so a little bit scrappy.
Weideman - Did a pretty good job again in defence. Took some decent marks and defended reasonably well. With Reid and now Ridley back, It's tough to see him getting another shot with the seniors, but good to see him hit some kind of form, regardless.
Ridley - Feels so weird writing about him in a VFL report... He was exactly what you'd expect. Looked like he was going at about 75%, but was miles ahead of pretty much anyone else on the field. Had 19 disposals, a few marks and a couple of tackles, which is pretty incredible, considering he only played the first half on managed minutes. Worth noting was that he seemed to almost be playing the Martin role, running off half back and delivering through the midfield. Might play one more in the VFL to make sure his match fitness is all good, but signs are very positive.
Hayes - Appeared to play more of a lockdown defensive game, with Ridley and Reid doing a lot of the intercept work. Was as solid as ever and I couldn't really fault him on anything. He's just so consistently good down there.
Bryan - BOG by a country mile. Dominated the ruck contest, got involved around the ground, kicked 2 goals and had 15 clearances. If he's not in the AFL side soon, it won't be due to form.
Caddy - Another nice outing. Had 2 goals, but it was his competitiveness that really stood out to me today. Just throws himself into every contest. Had a couple of great moments where he dove into packs to shovel a handball out to a teammate. His pressure was up, too, and did well to take some strong marks in tricky conditions. He's been building some good form over the last couple of games.
Reid - Classy as ever. Had the ball slip through his hands going for marks when the conditions were pretty slippery, but was otherwise very good both defensively and offensively. His kicking is such a sight to see. For those checking the stat sheet, yes, he had 10 marks, but 3 or 4 of those were from us chipping the ball around in the backline at the end of the game. Still did really well in the air for most of the game, though.
Lual - I thought he had a really strong first half running the ball out of defence, but faded out after the long break. He might just need to build his fitness up to have that full game consistency.
Davey - Probably his quietest game so far. Just couldn't find his way into the game at all. It's a shame after his great performance last time around. Hopefully he'll bounce back next week.
Roberts - He was one of our best today. Did some good work in the contests and on the outside, where his ball use was nice and tidy. For a player with his class, he's not afraid to do some dirty work, which is fantastic to see.
Visentini - Every game he does some little things that impress me. He competes hard and has a happy knack for hitting the scoreboard. He's doing alright as Bryan's backup, and it will be interesting to see how he goes if he gets a chance to be the number 1 ruckman in the side.
Wanganeen - Fairly quiet again. His pressure was quite good, but just isn't doing enough right now. I'm not writing him off quite yet, but I'd hope that he lifts fairly significantly in the second half of the season.
Menzie - Like our other small forwards, he just struggled to get into the game. We ended up moving him onto the wing, in what I assume was an attempt to get him more involved. He did ok there, and pushed back to help the defenders out a few times, which was nice, but was still pretty quiet.
As far as the VFL guys go, Hately was arguably the pick of the bunch with his strong contested work and a couple of goals. Peris wouldn't be far behind, though, as a speedy, classier sort of midfielder (his 12 tackles really stood out). Scott and O'Neill were both solid contributors, too.

Saying that "better" jobs exist is used as a mere excuse for some people not willing to work, like at all. Since people in the West always say that, but the truth is that they DO NOT want to work or burn some sweat, workers from poorer countries immigrating to Western countries that are desperate for employment don't care if the job is manual labor or sitting in an office cubicle for a long time, as long as it gives them a stable salary, since they exchange dollars, euros or pounds back into their local currencies to send back to their loved ones back home, so they remain indifferent if they are paid small, as like any other human, you need money to survive the contemporary society.
So, to put it, there is no point for people to talk shit or berate people who work minimum wage jobs (at the end, they will waste their own time for doing that), as they also play a part on maintenance, cleaniness or customer service and relations, it'll be completely stupid to get rid of garbage collectors or cleaners for example, as who else would tidy all of the mess up either on the streets or in your office? Robots can't do literally everything for you, as some interactions require humans to be around, like lawyers or doctors, since they need HUMANS (not robots) to have a more personal or clearer interaction with other people.
How can a robot be able to read your human emotions when you are upset, can it predict or assume if you have committed a crime, or what the verdict would be before the judge announces it? Are you going to lay off all human surgeons, doctors and nurses just to replace all of it with AI and robotics? People got to understand that jobs regardless if they are manual labor or not, have a purpose in their own way. (As why else have humans evolved through out history, it started from "manual labor" so there is zero reason to despite it so much.)
You might be surprised that jobs people consider "shit" have large salaries, for this reason: "It's niche, and no one wants to do it, only those who are willing to." as they are looking for those who willing choose to work in professions people consider "shit" by the masses.There is literally no reason for people to berate or talk shit about any job regardless if it is manual labor, minimum wage, or a white collar one, since human history they existed for their purpose prior to the industrial revolution and digital age, don't forget not all jobs can be replaced by robots and AI:

• If there are no HUMAN builders, who will construct all of the property?
• If there are no HUMAN doctors or nurses, who will treat you?
• If there are no HUMAN cops, who will enforce the law and arrest people?
• If there are no HUMAN lawyers, who will repesent you in court?
• If there are no HUMAN judges and jury, who will be present in court?
• If there are no HUMAN leaders, would would be in charge?
• If there are no HUMAN armed forces, what will the military consist of?
• If there are no HUMAN teachers, who will teach the students?
• If there are no HUMAN technicians, who will fix and maintain the equipment?
• If there are no HUMAN plumbers, who will be able to sort out the piping?

For instance, if there was an employer who was like:

• I'll give you $150,000 annually if you work hard with all that labor 365 days a year.
• I'll give you $70,000 annually if you just sat inside the office all day staring at a screen.

So, which one are you tempted to take despite "manual labor" job having a higher salary by this employer, as they consider that people don't want to do it, or are looking for a specific canididate who remains indifferent to the public opinion on job seeking?
I'm saying "manual labor" as some sort of placeholder, but it could be a job no one expected to exist, but has a high salary than what you'd get within an office or any typical white collar job. (No, it is not sex work, it's not even related to that, at all.)

So, people would only understand if "you've been through their shoes" as saying that someone working for minimum wage or manual labor is a "inferior" person to in comparison to somebody who is employed at a white collar job with a suit and tie, is just plain stupid. It's either that:

• Those people NEVER worked in minimum wage job in their lives, so they make assumptions of it being terrible. Only people who have worked in minimum wage jobs will TRULY know and understand what it is like first hand, rather than what people generalize the definition of that word, as they have never worked in that field, so they don't really know until they step into the same shoes as people working in minimum wage to find out first hand.
• They don't know what customer service ACTUALLY means. Other than them repeating the dictionary meaning of that word, they know nothing at all about what it is like first hand to encounter customers and being the front spectable of the general public, either nice or rude.
• Raised in a upper or top class upbringing who are brainwashed to talk crap about others. As they are from a neighborhood or familial upbringing full of rich folks who are accustomed to consider the middle class as peseants.
• They have "work experience" and "studied" listed on paper, but how does it really apply IRL? I mean, make them prove they are telling thr truth from their resume by making them apply the skills they've listed in real life, eg. You listed that you've worked for a michelin star restaurant, right? Cook me something I don't regulary encounter, but it better be good and an original recipe. If they can't apply the 'skill' they listed right there, they are liars, don't hire them.

It's like saying to garbage collectors, store clerks, couriers, uber drivers, and etc. suck, if that was the case, then they'll just walk out and NEVER come back, nowadays especially with social media, they can just brag about how they are treated, it's like a cog in a machine, if they are going to find a new one, it may not be as easy once the word spreads that the companies treat them like slaves, then people would not be interested, as they want to be treated with respect, not like an animal chained to a post.
If no one replaced those who all left, overtime they'll start to lose money and the companies who employ those sectors become defunct, even for the highest paying ones that require specific skills, still need actual humans to fill in those spots, not robots. Have you ever encountered (any of) these in real life, like at all:

• Robotic doctor, nurse, or surgeron
• Robotic police officer on duty
• Robotic CEO of a [company]
• Robotic head of an [organization]
• Robotic [President] or [Prime Minister]

You can imagine what that would do to humans, as what would be the purpose of humans existing if everything was automated, machines like all technology break down, as of now, to fix and replace their physical components within a physical body, you still need a HUMAN technician. Even the female robot living in Saudi still has a HUMAN owner, as a HUMAN created her, she did not create herself.
Put it like this, if people despite minimum wage or labor jobs so much, consider these factors:

• If there were no garbage collectors, trash will just litter the streets making it dirty and smell bad
• If there were no custodians in any public facility or street, trash and debris will just remain there
• If there was no uber driver or an uber-robot (managed by humans), who will deliver your food
• If there were no bulilders or construction workers, that means land will just remain empty
• If there were no EMTs, who in the hell will operate an ambulance
• If there are no mechanics or automotive technicians, who will repair your vehicle

I'm sure most of Chicago/Booth/Kellogg have heard of this company by now, but they also do recruit for their other branches hence I wanted to make a Reddit post.
Quick Intro: McMaster-Carr is the Amazon of Industrial Supplies. They ship to the US Miltary, manufacturers, engineers, technicians, etc... Their customers are the engineers but the bills are paid by the Finance Dept hence as long as McM do a consistent good job delivering to the engineers, they can charge exorbitant amount (e.g $30 screw and $50 shipping; real example.)This is how they can pay entry managements with 0yoe $170k (bonus included, deferred saving excluded) and middle managers (3-10YOE) up to $300k.
Path: Management Trainee (0-18m depending on your background/initial performance). Supervisor (no pay raise as MT are expected to become Sup eventually; can be skipped if you have pre-MBA exp and did well in your initial performance.) ManageSeniorM (3-5yoe/5-8yoe; most people languished here until they decided to go all in or all out with McMaster.) After this come Regional ManageDirectoVP. You can leave at M/SM and might still be able to transition to a new careeindustry afterward. Otherwise, it's a tough sale. Even before the mid-2023 general market downturn, I knew Regional/Directors who took 1+ year just to switch to another industrial/industrial job. Not even an industry switch.
Their Targets: In the past, 95%+ of management came from straight out of Ivy/Top Liberal Arts undergrad. This breeds an incredibly toxic environment since many of them are not mature/don't have leadership experience (the cream of the crop don't consider McMaster) and it's a case of the blinds leading the blinds. McM had a purge of toxic leaders back in mid-2010s but this problem returned. Since then, they have tried to recruit a few more consultants rather than depending solely on fresh grads. This recruiting effort has and continued to go miserably. Despite mass reach-out effort every single year, they only got some ex-B4 (1 Parthenon but the rest is regular B4), but they couldn't get anyone from T2 or MBB.
Pro:
• Their pay. McM has a 2.9 Glassdoor rating despite having a 4.6 rating in Compensation and Benefits. Pay include:

 •Base (0yoe: ~115k; ~$10k for each add year; ~$160k for Manager) •Profit Sharing (average 50%+ of base; lowest was ~33% in 2008 & 45% in 2020; 2022 was ~50%+ and 2023 was ~60%) •Deferred Saving (25% of Base&PS. Vest schedule 0%/20%/40%/60%/80%/100% over 6 years.) 

• Their Education tuition policy: After the first 3 months, You can take any part-time program (e.g PT-MBA, PT-MS, PT-MA) or Certificate completely free, doesn’t have to be work-related, and no string attached. You can literally leave after they paid for your tuition and can still finish your course.
Cons: Glassdoor Reviews:
• There’s another purge/headcount reduction going on right now. A tidbit is that management above your level can see the performance review of everyone below them. This contributes to how much drama, backstabbing, and rumors float internally. Recently, an ex-Trainee even wrote a long post calling out his spineless manager and backstabbing coworkers in a GroupMe with 100+ members of management. The manager left soon after. The ex-MT even told McMaster to blacklist his undergrad for recruiting. Absolute legend.
• The operations and tech stack are very constrained and not replicable. The company uses 80s IBM Tech for CRM/ERP so unless you’re working on a Website-related project (which you can sometimes use Python/SQL), you will be writing outdated queries to pull data. McM also doesn’t use Powerpoint so you will have to learn Adobe Indesign. The company’s warehouses themselves have a ton of makeshifts and outdated stuff. If you get a warehouse assignment, you will be putting out fires arose from issues not addressed by the original warehouse design. If you think you will be value-add to a company like Amazon after your McMaster’s experience, you are wrong. Amazon warehouses are built in the early/mid 2010s and have about 30 years of new automation/technology integrated to them. McM is still tinkering with their first automated warehouse. Experience putting out fixed/nonexistent issues is worthless.
• This company hire fake review writers. You will notice the positive reviews are all generic and one line whereas the negative reviews (from both Managements and ICs) are all super long and super informative. You will also notice that there’s no longer a “Most Helpful” sort on Glassdoor. This is because all the negative reviews get liked so much. Now it’s just “Most Popular” which is just fake reviews with 0 like/dislike.
• Relationships between Management and Individual Contributors are more fraught than ever. The situation has always been incredibly tense because ICs were viewed with incredible disdain by Management (most of whom are rich Ivy/Top School graduates) but has only gotten worse with automation and market uncertainty.
• Management’s official policy is to never promote Individual Contributors. A fresh grad (0YOE) can instantly become a supervisor but somehow an IC needed 8+ years of consistent excellent performance to be considered. Management can become Manager in as little as 2yoe out of Undergrad, whereas IC -> Manager is so rare I can count the Chicago Branch on two hands. And no, it’s not because ICs are not qualified/hardworking. Just imagine how hard it is to work at Amazon-pace for EIGHT YEARS just to be equal to a college brown-nose.
• Management’s unofficial policy is to avoid eye contact or saying hello to ICs unless the ICs initiated it. ICs were afraid to take more than one food/souvenir item during an open house event even though we had so much leftover. A manager even complained that other managers were making fun of ICs for work-place injuries (think Amazon warehouse-like injuries such as overexertion, nerve damage, wrist/knees/back issues.) Absolutely devoid of humanity.
• The company had been automating part of the Atlanta and Chicago warehouses. Managements assigned to be tour guides of these automated warehouses were told to lie say that no IC headcount reduction will occur. Obviously, there were a rise in suspicious performance evaluation after these were built. Also, I was one of the tour guides and were asked by multiple ICs where the observation cameras will be in the ceiling. The fact that multiple raised this seemingly-joking-yet-alarming question tells you just how much Management has trained ICs to become paranoid over time. If you’re a new-hire consultant and feels related to this meme, just know you will be holding the mop to clean up and not the lightsaber.

I'm a teen and I live in a family of 10. There's 4 girls in my family, my 2 baby brothers, my parents, and my grandma. It's not easy have 7 kids in one family. I can never get anything for myself. One time I've been begging my mom to get me a Chromebook since they were giving them away, just for 2 months later for me to never ever use it because my siblings always hide them. But since I'm the only boy in my family other than 6, all of my siblings always gang up on me and they also got my little brothers to do so as well. They always try to make me seem crazy in front of my parents so that they could slap me or ground me. One time my dad told me that he wished that I died because I screamed at my siblings. My little brother is kind of strange, he doesn't much, can't speak, and he never clean up after himself. Which leads me to always watch him and when my siblings are watching him and he does something wrong, they try to pin the blame on me and I get hit by my parents. Also just the fact that we have a big family cause a lot of problems, as I said before, I can never have something for myself and my parents can never afford things even though they have well paying jobs. I don't hate my siblings but sometimes I wonder how life would be without them. But I guess they feel the same my younger siblings may think of me as a rude older brother who doesn't like them.

My parents recently found out about my boyfriend (m21) Background: my parents prioritized grades and finding a guy with the same race and religion as me. I (f19) studied in high school and got straight As. In college, I commute, play college sports, have a job, and have a 4.0 GPA. My dad never bragged about my grades but would brag that I am a commuter. When applying to colleges, my dad said I was stupid and would never get into the Ivy League, so I believed him. My self-esteem has always been low even though I was valedictorian in high school and gave up my childhood to study so they would be proud.
My dad is always causing a scene at home and is extremely short-tempered. He pays for college and gas. There are always provocations at home that he starts. My mom is weak and is a follower of my dad; she doesn’t do anything on her own without my dad's approval. My mom cornered me to tell my dad about my boyfriend. My dad started yelling and screaming. He said I would have to pay for college and was not allowed to drive. He concluded by saying that I should kill myself or run away. He usually says stuff, but not to this extreme, when he is mad. Although he doesn’t mean it, I am sick of living in this type of life. I have no financial freedom and just got a credit card. I have two years of college left. What should I do?

I decided to (re)watch every single DiP episode from season 1 to season 13, including the 3 Christmas specials, and to make an Excel file compiling fun stats about the show. Here's the gist (and please excuse any mistakes as English is not my mother tongue):

General statistics

• Men are most likely to be killed (71 out of 113 victims are men), but also to kill (62 out of 107 murderers are men).
• So it makes sense that most murders are a man killing a man (45 times). The most frequent configuration is then a woman killing a man (27), followed by a man killing a woman (22) and finally a woman killing a woman (20).

Methods of murder

• Saint Marie murderers have a soft spot for firearms (32).
• Bladed weapons (i.e. knives, machetes, ice picks, spears, scissors and needles) were used 24 times.
• 21 victims were killed by poison/overdose.
• 8 fell to their deaths.
• 8 were strangled.
• 6 were asphyxied (most of the times with a pillow).
• 6 were struck with a blunt object (including a pole, a paperweight, a statuette, a golf club and a handle).
• 3 were electrocuted.
• 2 were drowned.
• 2 had an allergic reaction caused by the murderer.
• 1 was harpooned.

Motives

• Most of the time (26), you kill to prevent the victim to reveal something incriminating about you.
• Revenge is a pretty common motive as well (24), especially in more recent seasons.
• 19 murders were motivated by money, 18 by love.
• 14 murders were committed to protect a loved one, a place the murderer enjoyed, or a business in which he was involved.
• 4 victims were killed to put an end to their abuse of the murderer (mainly blackmail).
• 3 murders were ordered by another person.
• 2 murders were mistakes by the murderer, who originally wanted to kill someone else.
• 2 murders were committed to make it appear that the victim was guilty of a previous crime and committed suicide out of guilt.
• Shoutout to the one crime that was committed purely gratuitously.

Who gets the most killed?

• You're most at risk of being killed by your colleague or business partner, as was the case for 22 unfortunate people.
• 13 murderers killed their bosses or people above them in the hierarchy.
• 12 killed their friends.
• 11 killed their customers.
• 9 killed their fathers.
• 5 wives killed their husbands and 4 husbands killed their wives.
• 3 murderers killed their employees or people below them in the hierarchy; 3 killed their exes and 3 killed their brothers.
• 2 killed their girlfriends; 2 killed their brothers-in-law, 2 killed their mothers-in-law.
• On the other hand, if you suspect that the guy who has a crush on you, your brother-in-law, nephew, daughter or girlfriend is up to no good, you can usually sleep soundly (1 murder for each).

Which occupation is the deadliest?

Well, besides simple resident (26) and tourist (10), the deadliest job on Saint Marie is businessman/woman (8). Singers (5) and police officers (4) are also quite threatened.
Speaking of coincidences, note that 2 brides were killed on their wedding day, 2 prisoners were killed by their prison guard, and 2 survival coaches were killed by someone close to them.

Recurring tropes

The Saint Marie police had to deal with 71 seemingly impossible murders (i.e. a murder in a closed room and/or a murder where all the suspects were together at the time of the murder). 51 times, the DI has solved this case with the help of a completely innocuous event.
13 murders were committed with direct complicity (including 4 with the complicity of 2 or more people). 12 murders were disguised as suicides, 4 as accidents, 3 as burglaries gone wrong. 4 deaths were actually suicides made to look like murders.
On the fun side, in 5 different cases, the victim wanted to stage their own murder in order to disappear and start a new life, but was killed anyway.

How did the killer fake their alibi?

Most of the time, the murder took place earlier than previously thought (23), notably because the culprit or an accomplice posed as the victim after the murder (9) or because the gunshot heard was not actually the one that killed the victim (5).
20 murders took place elsewhere than previously thought. In 8 cases, it's because the victim had time to move before succumbing.
16 murders took place later than previously thought, mostly because the victim as first discovered was not actually dead, and the murderer killed them afterwards (9), or because there was a second gunshot after the murder (7).
In 10 different cases, the poison was not where it was thought to be.
I'd like to note the inventiveness of Sainte Marie's murderers when it comes to blocking a door from the inside: among other strokes of genius, they've already used a towel, a bottle cap, a fork and chewing gum to obstruct a door.

Character stats

1. Obviously, officer Dwayne Myers holds the record for number of episodes (60), excluding Catherine, the commissionner and Harry.
2. JP is the 2nd longest-serving character in the show, with 52 episodes.
3. Florence appeared in 49 episodes (46 as a DS and 3 as an officer).
4. Neville appeared in 39 episodes, making him the longest-serving DI.
5. Marlon: 31
6. Humphrey: 30
7. Camille: 28
8. Naomi: 26 (21 as a DS and 5 as an officer)
9. Fidel: 24
10. Jack: 22
11. Darlene: 21
12. Richard: 16
13. Ruby: 15
14. Madeleine: 10.

I hope you've enjoyed these little fun facts! I'll keep my stats updated with the next seasons.
(Please note that these statistics only apply to murders seen directly in the episode. I have not taken into account murders that take place chronologically before the episode.)

So I have consistently worked nights and weekends. Not really annoyed by that but not getting to spend time with my family is getting to me. My husband's schedule with the military puts us in a position where our son is left for hours alone and we all don't really see eachother... we actually enjoy hanging out. My numbers are good, I'm self motivated, and I get great feedback from my SL and customers. Not trying to brag but I feel like I'm a good employee. I also do not need this job. My husband's career more than affords for me to be a stay at home mom. I came back to Gs because I truly enjoyed the customers, atmosphere and getting to dork it out all day. It gave me a purpose outside of my home.
That being said... I am getting burnt out. I said about as much to my SL yesterday and was told that it sounds pretty much like a personal problem... took all my strength to not clap back and walk out... but like I said I actually enjoy working at Gs.
Serious question though. If my SL is refusing to schedule me on a day or two a week, what is my recourse? I don't want to go over his head to my DM but it's either that or I start purposely making my numbers suffer to get my point across... Thanks yall.

Heartbreak.
That’s what got me, well, out of my funk. In a sense, at least. I was in a rut. Knew it. She did too. Guess we were in a rut, really. Ran its course. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell, but, well, sometimes stories end, you know?
So I did my piece. Curled up into the fetal position and fucking bawled. Days went by. Go to work. Go home. A zombie. Drank a lot more. But time wore down the edges eventually. And one day, I said “fuck it.” Packed my car, quit my job, and fucked off across the country. That was the plan anyway. Heading home. Maybe with my tail between my legs. I wasn’t sure.
It was a long drive. From the West Coast to the depths of the Midwest. From the shimmering, golden shores to undulating, aureate waves of grain. Radio stations fading in and out. Long stretches of static. Data dropping fucking everywhere. Sometimes I twisted through the AM band. Hellfire and brimstone. Vast conspiracies that always lacked imagination. What happened the fun stuff? Lizard people. Time travelers. Area 51. Not anymore. Everything’s a fucking angle. Propaganda. Switch it off.
I took a long way. Choosing county routes over the interstate. I had time to kill, so why not? Might as well see some of this country. The back parts. Dark parts. Quiet parts. Flyover parts. The “you don’t see anyone other than the locals and lost” and kinda parts. And I guess I was lost, right? In a sense. Though, I was hoping I wouldn’t become physically so. God knows I didn’t need to slip through the cracks of the Earth somewhere out near Kearney, Nebraska.
But things did get strange–shouldn’t that be expected out in these less-traveled places, though?--somewhere around Sheldon, South Dakota. I was at a rest stop, pulled over for a break, trying to get the last Clif bar to break free of the piece of shit vending machine, when I saw a black semi roll up.
Now, when I saw black, I mean completely. Utterly. Entirely. A pitch black cab with tinted black windows pulling a matching black trailer. Even the rims were black. It stood out like a oozing sludge against the golden, baked landscape. I stood there, by the vending machine, waiting for a while to see who would emerge. Of course I was curious. BUt…no one did. It just sat there–this beast of a vehicle–idling. I figured the driver must have been pulling over to take a nap or to call it quits from his shift–they can only drive so long, right? But you’d think they’d want to step out and stretch their legs.
Eventually, I managed to hit the plastic of the machine just right to free my Clif bar. I tore it open, took a bite, and returned to my car. Back on the road. I had places to be.
It was strange, though. I kept seeing the black truck after that. It passed me–somehow–on the highway a few dozen miles from the rest stop. But I caught up, a few miles outside of Sioux City. I passed right alongside it, my eyes straining to see who was driving. Naturally, the windows were tinted too and I couldn’t see a damn thing. I just couldn’t put it out of my mind. Such an odd sight. This big, beastly, pitch black truck barreling across the dull Midwest. It didn’t even have any markings. No company logo. No indication of what it was delivering, who it belonged to, or where it might be going. Well, it did have plates. Washington. But there was no way to know where it originated from.
After passing by it and getting through Blue Earth, I saw it again at a rundown motel. The Cozy Inn. I had pulled off a few hours earlier, deciding to spend the night. I was exhausted, had pulled a 10 hour day and could barely keep my eyes open. The clerk put me up in some grimy room that looked like the set of more than one true crime series. Stained sheets. Peeling wallpaper. A bathroom sink more inclined to spit out brown gunk than drinkable water.
My window faced the parking lot. I sat up for a while, curtains drawn, vaguely watching the television–playing one of those trashy true crime shows I feared I might end up on–and the parking lot. Cars occasionally came and went. I saw some of my neighbors, who looked mostly like travelers or perhaps vagrants. While a police officer was detailing a particularly gruesome scene on Murder Comes Home, I saw the black semi roll into the parking lot.
Once again, it sat there idling, headlights blazing through my window. I grew irritated. I almost got up to go outside. As I was contemplating the possible dangers of such a decision, a woman approached the monstrous truck. She looked beautiful in a miserable way, with a short fluorescent pink skirt and heels too high for the pock-marked parking lot.
She opened the passenger side door and climbed in, disappearing into the tinted darkness. The headlights went off and for a while I watched, silence save for the exploitative program murmuring in the background:
Her limbs were buried in separate spots along the roadside ditch…
My heart–broken though it was–thumped in my throat.
Her head was never recovered…
I walked outside, suddenly very concerned. I stood on the pavement in my shorts and t-shirt, facing the truck, no idea what I might do.
The door opened.
The woman stepped out.
Blood was running down her neck.
I ran up to her, “Miss, hey, Miss, are you okay?! You’re bleeding. Should I call an ambulance?” I was frantic, my eyes darting between the blood on her neck, trying to ascertain the source and the thumping truck.
“Oh, I’m fine. Just swell. Fucking grand.” Her voice was dreamy. Her eyes were glazed over as though she was in a daze.
I grabbed her arm, “I really don’t think you’re–”
She suddenly became more cogent, grasping my hand, “You don’t wanna get fucking involve in this, kid.”
I thought that was an odd thing to say–she was younger than me.
“I’m just trying to–” The headlights went on, illuminating us like a spotlight on a stage. The woman darted off, swaying as she did.
I stood there–stupid–not moving. All the lights in the parking lot went out and all I could hear was the engine idling. The driver’s side window rolled down. For a while–what seemed like an eternity, really–nothing happened. But then a hand emerged, casually, finger curling backwards, calling me over. And so I walked. What was I going to do? Be rude?
I couldn’t see inside the cab, but a voice emerged. It was deep, bone-shaking. It didn’t feel like it traveled through the air. More like it vibrated my eardrums, bouncing around my skull.
“You’re hurt.”
It took me a moment to gather myself, “Hurt?”
“Deeply. Wounded. Lost. Like a stray dog.”
I squeezed my hands together and could feel tears welling up in my eyes, “I’m just–”
“I can help.” The voice pushed inside me.
“You can?”
“Get in. Come take a little ride. You’ll feel better. Free. Happy. Complete.”
I stood in hesitation, my eyes on the hand, which was a deathly pale. It was almost translucent, but seemed so soft, gentle. I wanted to feel it on my cheek.
“Okay.”
I walked to the other side of the cab, pulled open the heavy metal door, and climbed into the plush, black seat. As soon as I pulled it shut I felt hands all over me. In my hair. On my neck. Roaming along my collarbones. Grasping my shoulders. I couldn’tj tell how many. Four? Six? Eight? Soft and gentle and cold.
I closed my eyes. I sank into the darkness. The headlights went out as the cab rumbled, pulling back onto the deserted county route.
And I felt good. So good.
Now, I don’t feel anything at all. Not scared or sad or hurt or lost. I’m found. Just like you could be found. So if you ever see a pitch black semi rolling along the highway, think about flagging it down.
And then, like me, you’ll never have to die

I (21F) living with my parents while attending university. I feel very useless and controlled in this household but in my country or societal system, women can't move out unless they get married. So I went through a very hard phase (my dad getting incarcerated in a false case. I am really close with my dad and he is like the better parent to me and my sibling) for past few month but now I can say the situation got better. As my mom was a stay at home mother, the whole situation got a toll on her as she was the one who had to maintain the lawsuit and take care of my dads business (my mom is extremely domineering who would rather khs than asking for help from her children. However she is nor very communicative outside and struggled a lot during this time.)At that time I was preparing for admitting to the university, so I was mostly at home; stuck with this awful situation and this silent dread of my life going upside down. I didn't know how to cope with this, so I started eating fast food as much as I could. When our household was on its normal setting, eating fast food or food deliveries were rare. Ik it's sounds lame but having that "financial independence" or "being in charge of my meals" made me feel little bit better. Soon I ran out of my savings because of these deliveries and started to steal money from the house. It was very conscious choice and I knew what I was doing. At first it was like 10-20$ worth stealing, then it started to snowball into a much bigger amount. I didn't spend the money on any luxury item other than food deliveries. I paid for both me and my siblings food. When my mom noticed the lack of money, she started to suspect me. I always had a knack of stealing but it was always in my house and it was never money but some food(cheese, chocolate, ice cream, dry fruits, nuts), earrings or makeup products that my mom used to stash away. Stealing money was completely new thing and I could avoid this by saying "I never stole money". When I started university during all of these, I got caught by my mom stealing. The confrontation went horrible and my sibling ended up in ER because she simply couldn't take the screaming and yelling between us. Then I tried my best to get a hold of my stealing and fast food addiction. It went well for first few days but I ran out of money again. So this time I sold off my mom's gold jewelries that is worth of 150$. I went through this loop of stealing jewelries 3 times after that and I felt horrible each time. But I could not get myself and stop fast food addiction. Idk the lack of money made me feel more insecure and helpless. It feels like I have nothing on me. Soon after that my family situation got better as my dad came back and he is here for me. The fast food addiction went down for another bit and I started to spend money very mindfully. But i ran out of money again recently and became actually broke as fuck. I tried to stay honest and save up money. I applied for jobs as well but all of them were clashing with my university. In my country, the only viable part-time job option for a undergraduate student is home tutoring or online small business. I am not very good with business nor I have the investment for this(i once had this idea of online baking shop but both of parents were against of this. They discouraged me and berated me for not thinking about 'better ideas'). Home-tutoring is a good option for me but I can't land myself in a job because I am not good at teaching either. So after being broke for 2 months, I decided to go back to my old ways. I decided to steal the a gold jewelry of mine that was given to me by my grandmother when I was 6. I was not very close to my grandmother but i took care of her for 9 years until her death. She was struggling with dementia and died because of old age. Although her and I couldn't spend valuable time nor she was my favorite person, she might mean something to me. I had this very blurry memory of her bringing me this gold tiara because I wanted it and I ran around the house wearing it. This tiara doesn't even fit me properly as it is too small for me. Ik what I am doing is not right but I can't be this broke anymore. I can't help but think what my childhood self would feel like if she knew this. I am not planning to have kids in future so I have no one to give this tiara. I am completely lost on this at this point.

My family always had so many pets when I was growing up, at one point when I was in elementary school we had 8 dogs and 5 cats. That was already a lot. I dealt with a lot of mental illness growing up and addictions to TV, internet, gaming, pornography, etc, didn't care about school, was groomed on the internet, and my parents just let me drop out of high school. From then my mom started really hoarding animals, rescuing cats by the litter over the years to the point where now I think she has 50 cats or so spread between the small cottage we live in and a larger trailer. She works overtime and uses all the rest of her time taking care of all of them as well as feeding other feral cats she can't catch. My dad lost his job and now spends his days in misery cleaning up and taking care of cats, and their marriage is the most toxic thing I've ever seen. My mother doesn't even call my father by his real name, she gave him an unrelated name she just calls him by.
All my life from age 12 to 20 the first thing I heard almost every single morning was them yelling and arguing. I've never seen them show each other love. They're just so toxic and abusive and codependent towards each other.
I've been in relationships where I could move out and live with my partners, but my issues usually end up ruining the relationship. I'm so emotionally stunted and filled with anxiety and insecurity about the future. I can't blame my parents or my living situation for all my problems but I felt unable to really get a good footing in the world for my entire life, or witness models for healthy relationships. Most of my partnerships were codependent and obsessive because I felt such a need to escape from my home life.
I got my high school diploma, drivers license, a car, and have been working entry level jobs for a few years but I know I need to figure out college or something for my future. But the only thing I can afford to do is live in this house and somehow build a future here. I used to have one cat that lived in my bedroom, then my mom got 4 more kittens and they've grown up while I was gone and living with my boyfriend for a year. I moved back here a few weeks ago.
Now what was my only sanctuary constantly needs to be cleaned up, things get knocked off my desk or dragged around, I have two litter boxes in my room, there's cat litter and fur everywhere, I need to listen to white noise to even fall asleep because there are 5 full grown cats getting their zoomies in the middle of the night and they all live exclusively in this bedroom. They defecate at night and because their litterbox is like 8 feet from my bed, I smell it and it wakes me up. (That also can't be healthy for me at all)
My parents and even my mother alone make enough money that we could have a nice middle class life. They could've afforded to send me to college, to have a bigger house, to have money in savings, to go on vacations. Instead, we live in a small one bathroom two bedroom house, my mom lives paycheck to paycheck because she spends thousands of dollars a month on cats.
I feel like I've always been the only one who worried constantly about the future. What happens when all the cats get old and start dying? What happens when the economy gets worse and we have nothing in savings? What if suddenly we can't afford to take care of all these cats? Is it really morally better to rescue cats from living outside so they can live in cramped spaces and not possibly get the attention they deserve as pets?
My mom is mentally ill and is delusional as hoarders are, she will not listen to reason. I think she could also qualify as legitimately insane. My dad is so depressive and ruminates and complains about the living situation/my mother constantly as if I don't already know all of it. Yet I can't help but feel betrayed by him, he's the one who stayed with her as things got worse and worse. He was an adult when all this was happening, I was just a teenager.
I know it might be entitled to expect my parents to just provide me things like a more comfortable/healthy home, college, etc. My mom helps with my car insurance and I do have a bed, a shower, and a roof over my head. I can't act like I have it as bad as people whose parents are legitimately abusive, extremely neglectful, or kick their kids out leaving them to fend for themselves. I'm grateful for my life, I know it could be way worse.
I just can't help but feel like it's such a waste. Some people have hard lives because it's the best they can manage or they were dealt a bad hand. It's harder to have sympathy for people that just make their lives hard for themselves. Maybe my mother being mentally ill and feeling the compulsion to make her entire life about hoarding animals IS really out of her control. But it was still her choice to drastically lower the quality of her own, her husband, and her son's lives. And she has absolutely no remorse or empathy for that.
But even outside of the ways I'd benefit directly from more emotional/financial support from them, I just wish they had better lives? To see parents who either love each other or get divorced so I can stop seeing them at their worst all the time. To have some models of financial responsibility/security that just...makes sense even from the perspective of self preservation. My parents never showed me nothing to look forward to in life besides obesity, addiction, pain, misery, toxic relationships, hoarding, irresponsibility, codependency and things never getting better.

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I 30 (f) am fed up with husband 40 (m) For context we have a 1.5 year old, loving and caring for our son is the most important thing in my life . I have been a stay at home mom the whole time. While pregnant we discussed my husband paying me x amount a month so I can do things for myself , like get a coffe or hair cut. I haven't received any, which is okay we have food and shelter I just miss that pinch of financial freedom to care for myself. While pregnant I also made a bill chart so he knows how much all of our bills are when they are due and how much money we will have at any given moment . I'm so frustrated I don't even know where to begin. Well the bill chart was not adhered to in favor of frivolous purchases. Now we are in debt. I mentioned to him I have an opportunity to work part time at my old job. I was told he is not comfortable looking after our child, And it is pointless for me to work for so little money. Well, I respect and appreciate that maintaining the home is my job as well As obviously nurturing and caring for our beautiful child. I get ZERO help. I have mentioned it would be nice if he could take out the trash or feed the animals on his way to work . Doesn't happen and it is pretty difficult to do all that one hand with a child on my hip. There is Plethora of other little nit picky things i could dive into . Suffice it to say I feel like I get no respect in our home zero concern in our interpersonal relationship. While I have voiced my concern repeatedly (and politley) and ask for help I am still always on the bottom of the totem pole. I feel like I'm at the end of my rope yet I'm called a cold bitch when I'm upset with him. For not helping me or not even giving me time so desperately need to gather myself . So am I the asshole ? Or am I. Just expecting to much ?

I was doing laundry and my 17 mo likes to help me by throwing all of the clothes out of the laundry basket so I can fold them. She threw a sock out of my reach and I asked her, can you please hand me that sock? She heard me and grabbed one of her shoes lol. So I said good job, that’s close! That’s a shoe baby. And oh my god. It’s like those words activated some kind of internal malfunctioning for her . She crouched down, put her head to the floor, took a big breath in and screamed bloody murder. I feel bad because it’s honestly kind of hilarious when she does that but I just spent the last 5 minutes trying to console her. How are y’all’s morning going? lol

Today I want to tell my story of how I self-advocated and what I did to achieve that goal. I'm telling my story to help those who are in a similar position to what I was in and to inspire those to self-advocate.
To recap from my earlier posts. I have ADHD and fell under the "multiple disabilities" characterization. My high school teacher claimed that I have autism (Not diagnosed). I personally don't believe I have autism or at the very least I have a high functioning autism. Throughout most of my school career, I was in a self-contained classroom with kids with severe disabilities. Even if I was in the general population I had a paraprofessional or peer tutor. I never believed that I should have been in that position. As a consequence, I never really learned any social skills, I was segregated, and felt like that people didn't want anything to do with me because I was sped. The reason why I ended up in this position was probably a combination of me having the "multiple disabilities'' characterization and me testing low in three year revaluation tests. If you want more info on this then feel free to search my profile. This is an alt account and is primarily used to ask questions about special ed so It's really easy to find stuff about me.
Before I get into my story I just want to make it clear that I'm not against special ed. There's good and bad people in every profession. I believed I was in danger for myself and for my future. I don't believe that my teacher was evil and had the best of intentions but he was putting me in a position that was hurting me and I had to act. If you have any questions or feedback feel free to let me know in the comments. Another thing is that this post has been really hard to make. It opened up some old wounds and as a result took several days to write.
Here's my story: So in late middle school I was tired of the placement that I was in. I was tired of not having friends, Not being able to socialize with my peers, not being able to date. I also was thinking about what my life will look like after high school, I was concerned that I was going to never have friends, Never be in a relationship, and not have the social skills to make those friends. I was generally very concerned for my future. So I decided that for my 8th grade year (2017-2018) I would do my absolute best for both my behavior and academics. Throughout the year nothing changed. I was hoping that me doing well would show that I didn't need any support but at the end of the year I still had paraprofessionals in most of my classes and was being pulled out for tests. In the summer between middle school and high school all I can think about is I want high school to be different. I wanted friends, I wanted a relationship, and I had dreams of me in the student council. When I got into high school I had peer tutors along with paraprofessionals (Peer Tutors are general ed students who sign up as an elective to help special needs kids. They basically serve the role as paraprofessionals with less responsibility). I did everything again and had the exact same result. In January of 2019 (freshmen year) I decided that my current strategy wasn't working. They also started making the peer tutors fill out behavioral checklists for their student(s) by grading them on how well they behaved/followed directions and gave them badges that say "peer tutor" which made me feel singled out. Because of that the peer tutors felt more like babysitters then someone that is an equal. So I went to my special ed teacher and asked him to remove the paraprofessional and the peer tutors. He told me no and said that I needed them. I changed my strategy again and I was going to ask for the Peer Tutors to be gone first, then focus on removing the paraprofessionals. I was more concerned about the peer tutors over the paraprofessionals because I was concerned that since they were part of the student body that this was going to affect me when I was running for the student council. I was worried that they'd tell others I was special needs then people would think I was incompetent. So every 2 weeks I would ask him again to remove them and each time he would give me a different excuse on why I couldn't be alone. Here's some of the excuses he gave me: "The peer tutors need to be there to collect data", "You need to prove that you can do the work yourself", "It's not up to me. It's the general education teacher that decides if you need a peer tutor or an aide", "Peer Tutors are supposed to represent a trainer for a job. If you refuse training then you're going to get fired". I brought it up again during my yearly IEP which took place in March. Once again my teacher said no, bringing up another excuse. As far as I can remember, my parents were neutral about the aide situation. Later one peer tutor was removed, what happened is that the peer tutor moved to a different town and they didn't bother on sending a substitute. A win is a win so I celebrated it. At the end of my freshman year I was pretty much defeated and didn't achieve the goal of being 100% independent. Over the summer I took a look at my situation and decided that my current plan is not working. I knew that when my sophomore year of high school starts I will have aides and peer tutors in classes. I knew that if I wanted to get what I wanted I would have to do something big. I knew that I would have to put up a fight, and put in a lot more effort. Over the summer I developed a war mindset inspired by two quotes from Sun Tzu:
"Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win”
“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
I knew that I can't be going into sophomore year blind, so I started drafting a plan. I created a Google doc outlining my goals and what I wanted to accomplish. I knew that I won't be able to win every battle and that I need to choose which fight is worth fighting for. I thought to myself, “Well the peer tutors we're given training on the first day of school and probably have strategies to deal with poor behavior but what about planned well organized protests?” So I began researching strategies on how paraprofessionals/peer tutors dealt with negative behavior and reverse engineered those tactics. I read forms, I Watched YouTube videos and found as much information that I could find. For the peer tutors I didn't know too much about them. I didn't know if it was something that only my school did or if other schools did it. I did some research and found out that other schools had a peer tutor program and some have uploaded training videos on YouTube. Some peer tutors told me that they did babysitting and did nanny work so I looked up babysitting tips. I reverse engineered all of those tactics and came up with strategies to counter those techniques and put all that information that I learned into a google doc that I can use for future reference. During this time I also researched how to become a better negotiator and started learning a little bit of psychology. The plan was to first negotiate and if that doesn't work I will protest and make demands and negotiate. Over the summer I got really good at negotiating and practiced a lot on my father and my sister (they were totally oblivious). To this day I use those negotiating tactics. After I created my document and was satisfied with all the information, I went to bed that night and knew that I have already won and that my sophomore year will be my last year that I 1-1 peer tutor or aide.
Fast forward to the first day of school, as expected I had peer tutors and aides assigned to me in classes. My sped teacher had a chalkboard On the back wall full of sticky notes that had everyone's schedules and a name of someone was assigned to that student for each class. This time around I only had one peer tutor outside of the special ed classes. This is a big improvement over the three I had before but I still have my original goal of having none. For the paraprofessionals I had 2 in Gen classes.The goal was to first remove the peer tutors then the paraprofessionals. Even though this seems to be an improvement I continued with the plan. Since this was the first day, the peer tutors were in another classroom learning policies and other stuff they needed to know so I was alone for the day. I walked over to my special ed teacher and ask him one final time to remove the peer tutor he says no and then I asked him to let me be alone for 2 weeks so I can prove I don't need help and he still denies me. I then tell him that I will allow the peer tutor for 2 weeks and after that she needs to go. My teacher doesn't respond. (To add context the peer tutor that I had, she was a peer tutor in my math class in the prior semester so I already know who she was. We used to talk a lot and was surprised when I saw that she was assigned to me.)
For 2 weeks she mostly left me alone with her occasionally checking up on me. For those 2 weeks I purposely close my self off and adopted a body language that would subconsciously discourage her from approaching me. I did this by keeping my head low and staying as focused as possible. The only thing she did was confront me when I start packing up 2 minutes before the bell rings. She tells me that I shouldn't be packing up and to pull my stuff out again. I tell her no and hold my ground. She writes in my planner that I packed my stuff up early and refuse to pull it out. That happened like 2 or 3 times. On Thursday on the second week my class was tasked to create a PowerPoint. FYI this was a mythology class, while I was doing this PowerPoint I decided instead of manually trying to type in the locations and people from this mythology which the names were very long and complicated. I decided would be easier just to copy and paste them in. My peer tutor sees me doing this and doesn't say anything. At the end of class she writes that I plagiarized in my planner and tells my special ed teacher in person what happened. My sped teacher pulls me out of class (I had his math class right after mythology) and starts telling me that my peer tutor has seen me copy and pasting paragraphs and goes on this lecturing on why plagiarizing is bad. I explained to him that I wasn't copying paragraphs It was only copying names and locations and explain my reason for it. He didn't believe me but he didn't make me retake the assignment. After that I was pissed off and the next day I confronted her about it. I forgot what her reasoning for not telling me was but I told her that she needs to look into things before she makes false reports. After that incident, I decided to wait a week before I ask my teacher to remove her. Also during those first 3 weeks I turned down help from peer tutors and paras if possible In the special ed classroom. I did this to prevent sending any mix signals. I personally didn't mind if I had to work with a peer tutopara or not In the actual sped classroom. I only cared if it was in any of the general education classes. I just thought it would look contradictory if I was accepting help in the sped class and then requesting peer tutors to be removed from my gen classes.
At the beginning of the fourth week I went to school early and went to my sped teacher's class before first hour starts and then I again asked him to remove the peer tutor and the paraprofessionals. He says no again and brings up that I was being academically dishonest by plagiarizing. I tell my side of the story once again on what happened and he still doesn't believe me. At this point I leave and more pissed off. At this point negotiations didn't work so I started small protests by preventing the peer tutors from filling out my planer and the behavioral checklist. Most of them didn't care since there was other students they can fill out and they only need to fill out one to be graded for the day. One peer tutor gave me the puppy dog eye treatment and I eventually cave and let her fill it out. I still let the one peer tutor that was assigned to me in the gen class due to me being the only student and my intention wasn't to ruin, her grade. During the fourth week I began brainstorming ideas on how I can do a massive protest.
On Thursday of the fourth week of school, a walk into the mythology class and it started out like any other day. Class started and my teacher starts talking. I pull up my phone to respond to some messages and my peer tutor sees me. She asks me to hand my phone over to her and I tell her no. She tells me that I can't be on my phone and I tell her okay but I'm still not giving it to you. She then pulls out her phone and puts it on the table. She then tells me to put my phone on the table. I tell her no again. A few minutes past and the teacher finishes up talking. She passes the assignment and immediately my peer tutor begins to try and help by reading the questions. I slide the packet over closer to me and start ignoring her. I was hoping that she will get the hint and leave me alone. She doesn't so put on my hoodie and tried to mentally block her out. I don't remember what she said during all this since I was blocking it out but I do remember her touching me and the general ed teacher coming over and start assisting the peer tutor. It was a lot of pressure and I was actually about to give up because it was too much. But they both gaved up before I did and I was very relieved. After that, the class was pretty much quiet. The peer tutor wrote an entire paragraph on what happened. I walked to my math class and sat down. I then see my peer tutor walking into class and ask for my sped teacher. I already knew it was about me. I see them talk for 2 minutes and sure enough I see my teacher calling me over. I walked outside the classroom and me and the teacher begin to go at it. We end up saying the same things we have said before. However, my teacher this time mentioned that if I keep up my behavior that he's going to call in a meeting with my parents. The rest of math class was pretty much the same. However, my English class with the same teacher he went on a rant about using accommodations seeing that he had a disability growing up which was tourette's and he were love to have a peer tutor. I was quiet for the whole class since I was already exhausted because of everything else that had already happened. For the rest of the weekend, I've been coming up with plans on how I would be able to pull off a massive protest.
Now for the good news. On the fifth week of school, I noticed that my peer tutor was missing. My teacher pulled me aside again and told me that he decided that he was going to pull her for 2 weeks to see how well I would do without her. I told him thank you, that's what I wanted since the beginning of the school year. After those 2 weeks he didn't reinstate her and I didn't have a peer tutor or paraprofessionals in gen classes since. The deal moving forward was as long as I had a D or better he wasn't going to send any support unless I asked for it. My relationship with that sped teacher also had improved significantly. Later in my Junior year of high school I ran in my school's election and won. I was given the social media position.
In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't have to pull off a big protest. But the same time I wish that this situation could have ended in a different way.
Everything that I just told you is only the tip of the iceberg. There's so much detail that I had to leave out just to make this story shorter. Lot of it I'm still processing even though I found great strength in myself fighting back against a system that I believe was ruining my life. That war mindset hasn't left my mentality yet. I'm still dealing with the consequences of me being in special ed. Everything I told you happened 5 years ago and I'm still living through it like it just happened. I'm mentally recovering and eventually I will recover. Right now I'm in therapy and I'm writing down everything I can in a Google doc to process everything emotionally. Maybe one day I'll give that story to a writer and make a book out of it.
If you have any questions feel free ask them, I would love to answer them.