I'm the only honky gringo (Correctly 'gringa'. All noses are chicks in the Spanish language, regardless of plumbing.) cracker at my restaurant. Life is good. No political correctness, or political u.s. garbage. Just do your job, and the Hell with everything else as long as you don't go psycho. I wasn't fired for saying this when the upstairs banquet room still hadn't cleared out and I asked the owner:

"Can I identify as a dude for 15 minutes to clean the dude's, I mean sausage casing bathroom while they're still here?"

She just said, "Yes."

Then again, one Saturday on a 10/30 I asked to leave early on Sunday since I could clean the upstairs on Thursday because I had an appointment at 5:00 to be kidnapped by space aliens (They stood me up.), and she simply said, "Fine.", so. . .

It's nice not working for a u.s. corporation. Didn't have to kill myself to keep my job via that toxic shot they called a vax (Paradoxical since I hate life.), and never wore my mask right when the restaurant was open. Didn't wear it at all when restaurant was closed.

I swear, my destiny is blessed in some ways, though I must say working 22-23 hours on weekends is kinda rough, but since I only work part time I gotta do that. But hey. Doin' those kinda hours 2 days a week beats doin' 'em 5-7 days a week like in the past here and there. (Year end at data centres and lettershop places with financial institutions were HELL. Did 45 days straight once. Illegal, yeah; but it's what I wanted at the time and we all got away with it. The checks were awesome, since it was still double time and a half for holidays back then.)