Essential Personnel

Have you ever heard the expression "essential personnel"? Sure you have. Or you haven't. It's 50/50 probably. It's a pretty easy term to decipher. It is basically an employee that is required to report to his or her office regardless of circumstance. Obviously, medical emergencies or a death in the family offer the occasional loop-hole, but generally speaking, no matter what happens you have to go to work. Believe it or not, I'm essential personnel, which totally sucks gorilla balls.

I arrived at work Friday night around 9PM; it began snowing at roughly 11PM. Forecasts predicted it would continue to snow for the next two fucking days or some awful ungodly bullshit. Weather experts predicted between 12-20 inches. Assholes. I left work Saturday morning at 7:30AM. The roads, as expected, were shitty.

In all honestly, this doesn't bother me too much. At first. You see, I'm originally from Connecticut so I'm obviously a straight-up gangster, but I'm also no stranger to driving in treacherous weather. In fact, I've developed a full-proof system for safe driving during nearly every situation...

1) Don't drive too fast.
2) Don't drive too slow.
3) Don't follow too close.
4) Don't slam on your brakes.
5) Don't cut your wheel too hard.
6) Yes, 4-wheel-drive means your vehicle can accelerate faster during inclement weather, but it sure as shit won't stop any quicker.
7) Exercise some common sense and don't be a fuckhead.

It's literally full-proof. So anyways, using this system and my sexy 2009 Toyota Camry, I didn't have much trouble driving home. I also live like 10 blocks away, so again, it's no problem. My car also sits in a garage while I'm at work so it was pristine and beautiful and dry and black when I parked it in front of my apartment. Roughly twelve hours later I slogged through the snow to find my car...

Son of a cunt.

So while all of you sat at home drinking cocoa and cranking one off to A Muppet Christmas Carol, I spent an hour clearing over a foot of snow off my car. Why? Because I had to go into fucking work. It's bad enough I've had to work every Saturday night for the past two years, but now I have to deal with this shit too. And of course while I'm shoveling, a drunk-ass Mexican dude comes up to me and asks for a ride home. Here's a tip: Don't get shit-faced during a blizzard, Hefe.

One cunting hour later.

Luckily, I'm a fucking heathen and made short work of God's white poop, unlike you pussies who would've just called in sick or gone sledding with your faggy children. And now, I'm at work for the next ten hours, probably burning myself.

Happy Holidays, Fuckers!