Employed

I'm sitting here in front of a computer at work, my second job, early in a twelve hour shift hoping there won't be any madness requiring my intervention tonight. I am alone, and for now it's quiet. A few minutes ago I checked my e-mail and, from the spam, was encouraged to charge my pork cord. For many people it's Saturday night out there, and I'm guessing a positively charged pork cord lends one competitive advantage in the social arena. That positive charge, however, pretty frequently goes awry. During my last overnight shift, I saw this acted out repeatedly before my eyes through young men brought in by ambulances from the Insane Clown Posse show in cervical collars, alcohol poisoned, or awaiting surgery for severed tendons after something about his girlfriend made him punch through a windshield.