My ankle hurts.
This afternoon I watched cricket. Then I worked. Now I'm watching more cricket. I also got 6 more stars.
I'm wasting my holidays, and it's good fun. It feels like summer.
I'm pretty pissed off at work. On Tuesday during my day shift I took a few minutes out to fix up the few remaining problems with the tinned cat food planogram. It became perfect, flawless. I was so stoked with it and it was going to solve so many of the capping problems down there.
Then, on Wednesday, the person who's arse I'm covering who keeps making the bad planograms ordered an entire replanogram of the cat food section.
Now normally they replanogram sections when they're adding new lines or taking old ones out. But they didn't do either of those. They just completely re-arranged the cans and changed the amount of facings each line had for NO REASON. They made the most ludacris decions I couldn't even have come up with myself even if I was Forrest Gump on dope. The amount of capping is going to fucking triple now. I was so pissed off. Whoever did it doesn't deserve to live after that effort. I'm going to planogram them a new arsehole. Fucking angry.
If you like Bradism, you'll probably enjoy my stories. It's my dream to be a famous author, and you can help support me by previewing one of my books from Amazon below, and purchasing it if you like it.
If you met yourself from the future, what would you ask your future self?
What if they wont tell you anything?