jace

every time i ride a bus me and my friends play a game. see we don’t have jobs, because we’re not “qualified,” but how qualified do you really have to be to work at a fast food restaurant. i understand why THEY aren’t qualified: anthony is inconsiderate, lo is irresponsible, phil is well, he’s phil, dirty, rude, and an all around ass, but i’m not like them.

i’m considerate. i really am. every time i cross a street and a car just happens to be turning in that direction and starts to honk their horn, because i’m not moving fast enough, i don’t immediately reach into my pocket, take out one of my many x-acto knives, and flatten their tires. no, i don’t do that, because that’s something anthony would do. i instead, stop what i’m doing, take a moment to consider my actions, and then i have a fit of road rage, and then continue crossing the street. i consider their feelings and then i go with my gut reaction which usually involves screaming and a few flicks of the middle finger, but i do consider their feelings. because i am considerate.

i’m also responsible. i’m the oldest of seven kids. technically i’m not, but i feel like i’m the oldest. i pick up brothers from school, i take brothers to all their sports practices, i remember to give brothers medicine, and i even forge signatures on report cards for brothers because i am the responsible one in the family, and they say i’m not “qualified.”

but most importantly i am not phil. i’m fuckin jace. jace moutherfuckin yang. i’m the complete opposite of phil. phil is an ass. i’m not. phil is rude. i’m not. phil is dirty. and i’m a pretty clean cut guy, plus i’m considerate and i’m responsible and i have work experience. how the hell am i not “qualified.”

i worked at a fast food chain for two years of my life, and yes i may have locked a manager in a freezer, but you had to have been there to understand the situation. she was old and she was senile. and the entire day she was complaining about how hot she was. so i did what any responsible, considerate, not phil eighteen year old boy would do. i suggested she go have a seat in the freezer for a few minutes so she could cool down.

is it my fault i accidentally locked the door while she was in there. i mean, i eventually remembered she was in the freezer and ran with the quickest pace to let her out, and she didn’t die. she just cried a lot. her tears were like diamonds; frozen liquid tears. i must say they were the most beautiful tears i’ve ever seen, but that didn’t last too long. she called the store manager and i was fired on the spot. since then i’ve been “unqualified” for any job i applied for. aint that some shit.