And all is good.

Tommy stopped me at work this morning with the ever-so-ominous "can I talk to you in my office for a few minutes?" question. Damn, busted for chewing out the delivery driver, I knew it. But he actually wanted to apologize to *me* instead of me apologizing to him for my unprofessional behavior. He said he was sorry the driver behaved like a jerk, and that if it happened again, to let him know and he'd do something about it. In fact, he offered to formally write up the incident (yeah, like I want a statement in my personnel record that reads, "and then I told him to quit being such a fucking asshole and stormed out the cooler swearing like a sailor!") so if it comes up in the future, I'll have the documentation on my side. Anyway, I told him I wished I'd used a little less profanity, or even just walked away, and he just laughed and said I did the right thing.

I can tell I'm not in my own world--there were plenty of people to cuss out at my other jobs, but I would have been fired in a heartbeat if I'd actually done it. Here, everything is all, "Susan kicks ass!"

Really, the sign that I'm not in my own world is in how my co-workers handle their paychecks. Today was payday, and during break, I sat through a discussion on where the best place in town is to get checks cashed, who charges the lowest fee? These guys are living in such precarious circumstances--financially and otherwise--that they don't even have bank accounts. Not enough money to warrant a checking account. Well, one of the punk rock boys has a checking account "but that's just so [he] can use the ATM card as a second ID for buying alcohol." At least we're not there yet (gotta go find some real wood to knock on).