morning routine

We talk of love and sex and brokenness. We talk about Chipotle and nothing at all. Sometimes I listen to long rants and I become very tiny. I have heard this rant before but the speaker has not. My job is meaningless, they tell me, it is meaningless. I know this, they've told me before, but I know it in a way that they cannot. They have to dawn the Taco Time apron, wake up in time for the gas station night shift, and watch from a digital domain as other people do meaningless work. Count their hours, their output. Through the phone, I can hear as a man knocks on the protective Plexiglas window. He is a protester. He is homeless. He needs something. He's scary. It is impossible to wake up every day and do meaningless work and to know with all your heart and mind and body that the work you do does not matter. And so the speaker cannot hear the words they speak. They tell me their job is meaningless, I say yeah that sucks that sounds boring and bad and stupid and I'm sorry your job is meaningless. They tell me their job is meaningless again. I say yeah that sucks that sounds boring and bad and they cannot hear my reply. If they believed it was meaningless how could they go to work? How would they get paid? They'll end up homeless and scary like the man demanding a different gatorade behind the protective Plexiglas I can hear him through the phone static. What does it mean for me to listen? The speaker knows that what they have to say is important. They know it's going unheard, but it is their ears and not mine that cannot hear the words. My job is meaningless. It doesn't matter how much I listen, the words remain unheard. And the next time we talk I am told the same series of words. And the words become meaningless.

Night times are scary. It's the one time of day people have a moment to think about things and that's scary. They call me on the phone. They are very polite. Is it an okay time to talk? I just woke up. It is my morning. Yeah this is a good time to talk. I think I'm going to break up with the boy. He doesn't listen to me. I drink coffee. I think I have to quit my job. I only have $2000. I'm disabled. I don't want to work the night shift. My boyfriend doesn't listen to me. I switched medications and I just feel sicker. I think I'm getting sicker. I had six covid tests this month. I had an exersism too. The man performing the test made terrible jokes and asked me if I was seeing anyone and I wish he would just shut up and do his job. He told me it was "highly unusual" that I would react this way to the new medication. I'm a highly unusual person and now I have social anxiety and fibromyalgia, but not covid. I'm dying. I'm going to die. Men aren't listening and they're killing me. The planet is dying. The country is dying. All I smell is smoke when I go outside because everything is on fire and I'm dying too. Today at work my coworker had a panic attack. I couldn't tell if it was a panic attack or a seizure and I almost called an ambulance but it was a panic attack. I haven't been paid yet. I'm going to have to sell some blood. We're supposed to be paid every other week but I've been working here for over a month and I haven't been paid yet.

Man that sounds tough. That sounds rough and painful and scary. It sounds sad. I might as well be talking to my wall. The speaker tells me they're okay because what other choice is there? "I love you" I hope at least those words will get though the speakers blind ears. "I hope you're okay." I pour a second cup of coffee. We will talk again soon.