Hey guys, I hope you’re all well. So I posted a story a few months ago (in three parts because I tend to overwrite) and it was pretty well received. It left me wanting to write more, but I don’t have many anecdotes to share because I haven’t been sexually active in a while. So I’ve had to go quite far back into memories to share this story with you. I hope you like it.
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This story takes place in early 2010 when I was working in the kitchen of my local pub. I’d previously worked the bar but I’d opted to move out back because the chef’s were paid slightly more, and I’d built a reputation for being rude to customers. It’s not my fault that most of their clientele were idiotic dickheads.
Naturally, once working in the kitchen I had to start off washing up, which was the lowest of the low, but it was easy, and more often than not I’d have my earbuds in so I could keep myself distracted. There were other perks like getting to eat some of the meals if the chef’s made a mistake. I remember one time I got to eat lasagne followed by apple pie and cream while I worked, which also meant that I didn’t need dinner after work.