longest rant of my life

For the longest time of my life, I was pro-life. I believed that abortion was murder and that women who had abortions were just trying to erase the consequences of their own actions.

I realize now how incredibly wrong I was.

In that thought process is the assumption that every unwed woman who gets pregnant did so through consensual sex. She was the one who decided not to take birth control or make her boyfriend wear a condom. She was the one who decided to have unprotected sex. That thought process erases any victims of rape.

What if the woman in question DIDN’T consent? What if her boyfriend/father/brother/uncle/cousin/husband/professor/teacher/coach/etc. took her by force? What if he lied to her and told her he was wearing a condom when he wasn’t? What if a guy took advantage of her while she was drunk? What if he drugged her?

Also, the pro-life argument completely erases ANY responsibility for the male in the equation. It takes two people to have sex. Two people to conceive. If you’re wanting to force a woman to carry the fetus to term and care for it for the first 18 years of life, then why not force the man who got her pregnant to do the same? It is just as much his responsibility as it is hers.

While I personally don’t believe I would or could ever have an abortion, I also recognize the fact that I have absolutely no right to tell another woman what she can and cannot do with her own body.

It’s not pro-life vs. pro-murder. It’s about a woman’s right to control her own body. The fact that a bunch of middle aged white right wing conservative men are trying to tell us what we can and cannot do with our own bodies is ridiculous.

JUST NOW AT WORK

This fat, short, idiotic little douchebaggy shizwad walks in and orders a chocolate smoothie with tapioca and ice cream and extra chocolate. As I’m making this drink, my boss is asking him for the money which is three some or four dollars.

Little wad of worthless cow-patty-poop says “Oh, I thought it was $2.50” because that’s what it says on our board. HE COULD HAVE ASKED. But no. Of course he doesn’t ask about how much everything extra he wanted costs and doesn’t know how to calculate tax and imagines that we’ll throw in a bunch of free stuff into his drink for no charge. At all.

SO HE LEAVES. EVEN THOUGH WE MADE HIS DRINK.

And so after much debate, my boss and I pour the drink into two cups and take them, figuring we’ll just drink it because we have no idea when the next chocolate smoothie customer will walk in and it’s such a waste so we’ll be forced to drink it instead.

AND THEN HIS EVEN MORE DOUCHEBAGGY WAD OF ABSOLUTE POOP DEVIL-SPAWN AS IN ACTUAL OFFSPRING OF THE DEVIL WALKS IN AND ORDERS A CHOCOLATE SMOOTHIE WITH TAPIOCA.

My boss, very patiently, asks if his friend just came in here and asked for the drink. He says yes. My boss said he could have just asked how much the extras would have cost.

Little snotty twat is all “He didn’t ask for all that extra. No he didn’t. No he didn’t. I’m such a pretentious little snot-ball who likes to screw with your head.”

Okay no, he didn’t say that. Just everything before the last sentence.

So we nix the tapioca which totals $2.75 and we give him the drink.

And you know what? I love my job. I ACTUALLY love my job. I am a teenager who loves what I do and I’m nice to the customers and I like being here and I like making drinks and I love this job. I LOVE THIS JOB.

So, very VERY nicely, I tell him “Hey kid, next time if you just ask us how much things cost we don’t have to go through this trouble.”

It’s a nice comment, right? I mean, I didn’t insult him.

And the little snarky, disgusting brat walks out saying “[Insert other tapioca store] is better! They don’t rip people off!”

OH NO YOU DID NOT.

I ALMOST LEAPED OVER THE COUNTER AND CHASED HIM DOWN.

IT’S NOT OUR FAULT that you didn’t ask how much your drink cost, didn’t have enough money to pay for said drink, sent your booger-of-a-friend to buy your drink in cheaper form, and LEFT IN THE MOST MANNERLESS FORM POSSIBLE.

URGH.

I think the worst part of all of this is that after he left I told my boss I wanted to kick him and my boss said “Be my guest” and these intense feelings of regret washed over me.

Beware, snotballs.