The idiot Bill and I call Schlomo was out today. He’s technically my supervisor and he is probably the worst supervisor I’ve ever had. He plays favorites and I am not one of the favorites. I think he’s a shady character but I did not realize that until I was in close proximity to him.

He has a coat rack in his office. Outside his office, I used to sit with four guys. It was winter of 2023 and I had a winter coat. I spied the coat rack and asked if I could use it as well. He said no. I was taken aback and asked why. He said if he let me use it, he would have to let the other four use it as well and he was dead against it.

I called bullshit but did not say that out loud. I could understand if he said, “no you smoke cigars and your coats smell like cigars and I don’t want that smell in my office”, but the bullshit excuse of letting other people use the coat rack was just so wrong.

Some of the people who had spent time in the room alongside Schlomo and myself noticed that he treated the other guys one way and then treated me quite differently and not favorably either. He comes across as a nice guy but he’s a shit heel. I am fairly indifferent to him and it takes a lot to not show my disdain.

Now I work a few floors away but still we interact. Thankfully I don’t have to see the pictures of his grandchildren on a regular basis, though it was top notch acting on my part, saying all the right things. I used to call him Schlomo and everyone else called him Gold. I was being respectful then, figuring his family called him Schlomo at home, now I just call him Gold.

He would talk about his job before the pandemic, how great it was and all that. If it was all that, then what the hell is he doing here? Like I said, I think he’s shady and I’m a pretty good judge of someone’s lack of character. He was out today for some reason and I went in early to take care of things that he sets up for my work.

I started it last night and figured I would complete it this morning but a certain scum one did the work that I came in early to do. That certain scum one will be written about later on, a story about a thirty-something ‘bro’. You know the type, who wears a baseball cap all the time covering up his thinning hair, and sunglasses on the brim.

You know the type, you’ve seen the type. Probably has a red cap somewhere in the dark recesses of his armoire. But that’s for another time. We were once friends, I bought weed from him. Now he claims to be afraid of me, with my bark worse than my bite.