Work

I have been asked to work. I don't want to go. I want to do what I had originally planned to do; watch a movie with my favorite person. But being poor often makes us do things we don't want to do. My desperate need for money usurps my desperate need for attention. Damn. Why today? Why not yesterday? I have to go to a new place where they don't know me and try to fit in and look natural, which is probably the thing that I'm worst at. How dare that woman tell me to 'find' the shirt she wants me to wear. Who does she think she is? If you're begging me to work your shitty banquet, the least you could do is give me a shirt to wear. I'll show up. Then I've done my part. And then some, because I sacrificed my precious plans to be where I want to be more than anywhere else in the world. Fuck. Maybe I should have said no. This better be worth it.