You cannot stop the glorious march of progress, citizen!
So, next week our fair city is hosting World Youth Day, and I for one am looking forward to it. The main street that will be closed so that the faithful legions may march upon it in a most holy fashion also houses our little establishment of ill repute, and what with a nicely timed public transport strike and dark mutterings of protest plans I’m looking forward to a bit of chaos.
My old boss (a 6’1″ Lebanese drag queen with a preternatural fondness for the baseball bat, rumoured to be named “Dorothy”, which he kept behind the counter), whom I shall miss dearly, has been transferred to another location. The new guy seems okay, and certainly has no qualms about standing up to dickheads who harrass the girls- and really, what more could one ask? Meanwhile, the refurbishment plans of Management continue unabated. I was halfway out the door after a thoroughly fiscally unsatisfying shift today when the boss casually asked, “Oh, you’re on tomorrow night, aren’t you?”
“Oh, they’re doing the wall.”
“They’re doing…the whatnow?” Visions of marching hammers and interminable acid-fuelled guitar noodling swam in my head.
“The wall. Knocking it down.”
So it seems that once again I shall be wading naked through piles of sawdust and Makita attachments in pursuit of a living wage.