That's a lotta info

I know it's not uncommon for me to disappear for weeks at a time, but this time, it's just too much to recap what I did in the last two weeks while in California. Too much. But four days I can sum up fairly easily:

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Ta-da!

But yet, since I've come home, I can't seem to keep my mouth shut about what I'm up to now at the sweatshop. I can't keep my mouth shut because I can't help sharing with everyone just how much I HATE it.

Well, I don't HATE it, more like very strongly abhor it.

Okay...I don't abhor it either, but I might loathe it a little.

Working at the factory isn't what's so bad. It's not even that with my lack of Cantonese I'm having trouble communicating with the other workers. It's really just having to learn how impossible it is to work with my aunt. I'm sure that's it's not good karma to talk public smack about my relatives, so I won't (though feel free to ask), but I can share that I've already blown up at the two female relatives that I have to deal with here at work, plus this other guy that just KNOWS how to get under your skin.

"When you asked me to do it, did you really mean that you were actually going to do it yourself?"

"No, you are not helping me, you're hindering me."

"Wait, you mean the key doesn't work in the door like I told you it wouldn't?"

"You ask me if I'm serious about taking over this business, but are you serious about quitting this business?"

Blah!

At least when I gave my public chastising of these people, the supervisor Kat got a kick out of it. I liked that. Of all of them, I like her the best. I only hope she likes me.

Honestly, I don't know if I can put up with this that much longer. As cool and awesome as would be to own my own business so that I can learn to be an entrepreneur, I haven't learned a thing the whole time I've been here. Well, I've learned that my aunt is one of the most disorganized people I know...but that's besides the point.

At least mom and dad have been really supportive about the whole idea. When I was excited about it, to when I began ripping my hair out, they were with me. Mom's even been sending me job postings for cooler positions in California and stuff. So I know that if I do end up cutting and running, at least the 'rents are cool with it.

Who knew I wouldn't really like handling a whip? I guess it's understandable since my aunt's whip was misplaced years ago in her whirlwind of an office and she's since replaced it with braided scraps of leftover cheese. That's not funny...it's not even true...but that's how I feel. Like I'm working with leftover cheese.