The $10 Job, the Angry Burrito, and the Motherfucking Apology Donuts 😂🍩

I've been friends with this dude, @mm, since we were 13 years old. That's over 30 years of friendship, questionable decisions, and stories we STILL laugh our asses off about.

This is one of our all-time favorites. He gave me permission to share it, so buckle the fuck up. 😂🍩

Once upon a time, Andrew and I came up with this BRILLIANT fucking scheme to go make TEN WHOLE DOLLARS AN HOUR working in West Jordan, Utah.

I think it was Sportsman's Outfitters or some shit. We were packing pallets to ship merchandise out to stores.

Now, we lived about an hour and a half away, and neither of us wanted to make that drive back and forth.

So naturally, being the financial geniuses we were, we decided to RENT BEDS IN A HOSTEL IN SALT LAKE CITY.

For a job paying TEN FUCKING DOLLARS AN HOUR.

We were really out there chasing the American Dream. Straight into financial ruin. 😂

Anyway, we get to this hostel. Andrew takes the top bunk, and I take the bottom.

And apparently, the hostel manager has decided that the communal kitchen is the perfect place to host his own personal fucking TED Talk.

At FULL VOLUME.

At ELEVEN O'CLOCK AT NIGHT.

Andrew and I both have work in the morning. We're exhausted. We're trying to sleep.

So I get up and politely ask him to keep it down.

Nothing.

An hour later, I ask AGAIN.

Still nothing.

I asked this motherfucker THREE TIMES to be quiet.

By FOUR O'CLOCK IN THE GODDAMN MORNING, I had officially reached the end of my ability to participate in civilized society.

So I got out of bed one final time and announced:

"IT IS FOUR O'CLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING! CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP?!"

Then I marched back to my bottom bunk, wrapped myself up like a thoroughly pissed-off human burrito, rolled onto my side, and prepared to finally get some goddamn sleep.

Except...

From the top bunk, I hear something.

A tiny, muffled...

"Hehehehehe."

And then the fucking bunk bed starts SHAKING.

Andrew is up there silently KIKI-ING HIS ASS OFF.

He's trying so hard not to laugh that the entire goddamn bed is vibrating.

And I'm lying there, wrapped up in my angry burrito, absolutely FURIOUS.

But the more that bed shakes, the harder it gets to keep a straight face.

And then I fucking LOSE IT.

Now we're BOTH laughing uncontrollably because apparently my complete loss of patience was the funniest fucking thing Andrew had ever witnessed.

But here's what you need to understand about Andrew.

Andrew has always been a peacekeeper. He's never been confrontational. He's the kind of person who would rather suffer in silence than risk making somebody uncomfortable.

And his social anxiety meant that my little four-in-the-morning performance had officially EXCEEDED HIS MENTAL BANDWIDTH FOR INCIVILITY.

He thought it was the funniest fucking thing he'd ever witnessed.

HE WAS ALSO ABSOLUTELY FUCKING MORTIFIED.

Because while I was perfectly content to let that motherfucker live with the consequences of keeping an entire hostel awake, Andrew was apparently experiencing a full-blown diplomatic crisis.

He needed everybody to be okay.

He needed to restore peace.

He needed to know that we weren't going to be permanently blacklisted from the fucking hostel.

So what does he do?

HE BUYS THE MOTHERFUCKER DONUTS.

WITH HIS OWN MONEY.

AND APOLOGIZES ON MY BEHALF!

I said, "Why the FUCK did you buy him donuts?!"

Andrew says, "I'm just trying to smooth things over."

SMOOTH WHAT OVER?!

I WASN'T FUCKING SORRY!

Who authorized you to issue an apology on my behalf?! 😂

Those weren't apology donuts.

THOSE WERE ANXIETY DONUTS.

Andrew was trying to regulate his nervous system with fucking pastries.

And there I was, offended that he'd negotiated a peace treaty on behalf of a country that had never agreed to a ceasefire.

I told him, "I was just saying what everybody else in that hostel was THINKING!"

Because you KNOW there were other people lying in bed thinking, "Boy, I sure wish that motherfucker would shut up."

Well, here's the difference between me and those people.

I'm an action-oriented person.

I don't wish for shit.

✨ I MAKE IT HAPPEN. ✨ 💅

Now, here's the greatest fucking part of this entire employment adventure.

After all that planning, traveling, paying for a hostel, losing an entire night's sleep, and Andrew conducting unauthorized diplomatic negotiations with fucking donuts...

I WORKED TWO WHOLE SHIFTS AT THAT BITCH.

TWO.

And then decided:

"ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT."

That was the beginning and end of my illustrious pallet-packing career in West Jordan, Utah.

But WAIT.

I DIDN'T EVEN GET FUCKING PAID.

Apparently, I hadn't submitted my employment paperwork correctly.

So after all that bullshit, I managed to work two entire shifts for the grand total of...

ZERO FUCKING DOLLARS.

The company got free labor.

The hostel manager got free donuts.

Andrew got to experience a full-blown social anxiety crisis.

And I got to spend money I wasn't making to sleep in a bunk bed while a grown man conducted a five-hour kitchen symposium nobody fucking asked for.

FINAL ACCOUNTING OF THIS BRILLIANT BUSINESS VENTURE:

💰 Hourly wage promised: $10.

💸 Actual earnings: $0.

📦 Shifts worked: 2.

🛏️ Hostel beds rented: 2.

😡 Four-in-the-morning confrontations: 1.

🍩 Unauthorized apology donuts: Purchased by Andrew.

🤝 Peace treaties negotiated: 1.

✍️ My signature on said treaty: FORGED BY IMPLICATION.

🙄 Apologies I authorized: ZERO.

📉 Return on investment: FUCKING CATASTROPHIC.

😂 Lifelong memories: PRICELESS.

And here's the thing.

All these years later, Andrew STILL thinks this is one of the funniest memories we've ever made together.

And every time we talk about that fucking bunk bed shaking because he couldn't stop laughing, we lose it all over again.

That's what I love about a friendship like ours.

Andrew was absolutely horrified by my behavior, but he was laughing too hard to do anything about it.

And I was absolutely horrified that he'd spent his own money apologizing for behavior I stood behind ONE HUNDRED FUCKING PERCENT.

We were two completely different people, handling the same ridiculous situation in two completely different ways.

He chose diplomacy.

I chose direct action.

The hostel manager chose free donuts.

And the employer chose not to pay me.

Everybody got something out of that experience except my fucking bank account.

But honestly? That memory was worth more than anything that job was ever going to pay me.

Over THREE DECADES of friendship, and Andrew is still the man who tried to negotiate a fucking peace treaty with a box of pastries.

And I'm still the woman who thinks the hostel manager had it coming.

Some things never fucking change.

I hope that inconsiderate motherfucker choked on his fucking donut.

AND TO THIS DAY, I STILL DON'T OWE THAT MOTHERFUCKER AN APOLOGY. 😂🍩

Yes... The picture is AI. I am as real as they get tho.

#MillennialHumor #ElderMillennial #MillennialNostalgia #MillennialProblems #AdultingFail #FinancialHumor #BadFinancialDecisions #WorkingClassHumor #Friendship #LifelongFriendship #ChildhoodFriends #FriendshipGoals #FunnyStories #Storytelling #TrueStory #RelatableHumor #SelfAwareness #SocialAnxiety #AnxietyDonuts #AngryBurrito

Now, was he actually in the Epstein files, or did he just desperately want to be? I remeber him asking for an invite to the “wildest parties,” but I don’t remember if anyone actually liked him enough to let him be there.

"Sentinelle, GIGN, Raid, BRI… nous avons supprimé des vacances. Nous avons rappelé des personnes qui devaient être en vacances et qui ne le seront pas. Les hélicoptères, les Centaure et les engins lanceurs d’eau seront mobilisés aussi. Les armes intermédiaires comme les LBD et grenades de désencerclement pourront être utilisées"

Sérieux mais ça coûte combien, toute cette répression ? On n'a jamais aucun chiffrage, comme si c'était absolument gratuit pour l'État…

@spirit532 Yes, that's the idea—you wouldn't need HF because you just directly etch the surface instead. I've read various references to it being "slow" but I've never seen someone put a ballpark order of magnitude of how many zeroes "slow" is for, say, an IC being produced ~1980.