Job interview

Sometimes its better the devil you know.

Today I went to a job interview in a bid to escape the clutches of that evil soul sucking sucker.
It's a good job, Its a small restaurant/bar type set up, there's only forty people in the entire hotel, so I don't have to be worried that Nutbag from Laundry is bitching me out to Peeweehead in kitchen, who tells Numbnuts something mean about my face [or to my face, alternately]. I am not going to take it. [Look! look! I'm insane!] I don't think I could survive on the kind of pay cut they're offering. Eighteen dollars an hour before tax on a five hour shift. Duuuuude. Thats seventy dollars after tax.

So here we are, ever so pragmatic, going to turn it down. If I took it there's no way in heck, I could afford my course, there's no way I could move out, hell I'd probably struggle to put Minnie through daycare. I'm justifying this to myself because I feel terrible, I know on Thursday I have to go back to working with dipshits [dirty,gamble-aholic dipshits I might add!] and feckers who would stab me with a spare chopstick because they would rather do that than actually work. Money, money, money.

On an interesting note: The intervieweer asked me where I'm from, whats up with my accent? I don't have an accent! I think I might be watching too much American tv.