Greetings boyos,
So for a while now I've been waging at a gardening store until uni starts up again, mostly doing physical labor (unloading trucks, stocking shit, watering, etc.). Pays like shit but It's nice to do something physical for once and get some decent muscle gains from it. Having almost entirely female coworkers, and working in an industry that caters almost completely to women (with a few exceptions I will elaborate on in future posts), I've been running into blackpill on top of blackpill despite trying to focus on my work, so I figured I'd make a series out of it so at least someone may derive some joy from my miserable realizations.
One day, my boss wanted me to throw out some of our flowers because we were receiving new inventory, the season was slowing down, and nobody (i.e. women) were buying them. But he also wanted to keep some of it, so I was put into the position of deciding which of these flowercels had a chance of ascension, and which were condemned to ldar in this dumpster for the rest of their lives. As I was standing there before the dumpster, with a big ass cart of flowers next to me, I couldn't help but imagine each little pack of flowers as one of us. Some with a bent stalk, others with petals that grew misshapenly, some of them not actually ugly at all. Many of these defects weren’t even necessarily pathological, but merely aesthetically unpleasing. Truly a lookspill indeed
Hence, I was put in the unfortunate role of Natural Selection itself in a way, judging which flowers had the best looks and which were too ugly to be accepted by the predominantly female clientele. Looking back, I wish I would have rescued a couple of those flower boyos. Perhaps they could have had happy flower lives if only somebody gave them the right amount of water, soil, or fertilizer instead of neglecting them, if only somebody gave them the chance to truly bloom. Alas, now they are surely rotting away in a landfill somewhere—as do we in our hovels and bedrooms—with only their misshapen comrades for companionship.
So for a while now I've been waging at a gardening store until uni starts up again, mostly doing physical labor (unloading trucks, stocking shit, watering, etc.). Pays like shit but It's nice to do something physical for once and get some decent muscle gains from it. Having almost entirely female coworkers, and working in an industry that caters almost completely to women (with a few exceptions I will elaborate on in future posts), I've been running into blackpill on top of blackpill despite trying to focus on my work, so I figured I'd make a series out of it so at least someone may derive some joy from my miserable realizations.
One day, my boss wanted me to throw out some of our flowers because we were receiving new inventory, the season was slowing down, and nobody (i.e. women) were buying them. But he also wanted to keep some of it, so I was put into the position of deciding which of these flowercels had a chance of ascension, and which were condemned to ldar in this dumpster for the rest of their lives. As I was standing there before the dumpster, with a big ass cart of flowers next to me, I couldn't help but imagine each little pack of flowers as one of us. Some with a bent stalk, others with petals that grew misshapenly, some of them not actually ugly at all. Many of these defects weren’t even necessarily pathological, but merely aesthetically unpleasing. Truly a lookspill indeed
Hence, I was put in the unfortunate role of Natural Selection itself in a way, judging which flowers had the best looks and which were too ugly to be accepted by the predominantly female clientele. Looking back, I wish I would have rescued a couple of those flower boyos. Perhaps they could have had happy flower lives if only somebody gave them the right amount of water, soil, or fertilizer instead of neglecting them, if only somebody gave them the chance to truly bloom. Alas, now they are surely rotting away in a landfill somewhere—as do we in our hovels and bedrooms—with only their misshapen comrades for companionship.
