I could really use some advice on my current career situation.
I graduated with a CS degree and worked as a Data Analyst at a research firm for about 7 months after graduation. The work was pretty leisurely, and I realized I wouldn't progress much if I stayed longer. So, I applied for a few software engineering roles (internships and graduate roles) and eventually got a position as a Junior Software Engineer at a Telerad company.
I should have seen the red flags when they asked if I could work from 8 am to 6 pm, Monday to Saturday. But I was desperate to build experience, especially with the current tough tech job market, so I agreed. The salary was lower than what we had initially negotiated, and when I called to ask why, they said it was a training contract and technically I wasn't supposed to be paid, so the salary I was receiving was just a stipend.
Fast forward two months into the role, and I haven't learned anything related to software engineering. It turns out the role is more of an IT support position packaged as a software engineer job. I'm working from 9 am to 9 pm, which is way beyond the agreed hours. When I brought this up, they said it's part of the experience and that I need to understand the system before I can access the codebase. Yes, you heard that right!
I want to leave, but my contract requires a two-month notice period. I'm unsure if I should stick it out for the rest of the year (when my contract ends) or start looking for other opportunities despite the two-month notice hindrance.
Has anyone else been in a similar situation? Should I tough it out, or is it worth trying to find a new role even with the notice period? Any advice would be greatly appreciated!
PS: I talked to my supervisor that i don't think this is the role i signed up for but she said it is a phase.

I had two days on private property this past week. First day I scouted out setup spots and walked the property with the landowner. Didn’t see or hear any birds, but landowner said a tom was on the property a few days ago. This area is known to have turkeys and also known for its high winds. 30+ mph gusts made me feel like I was in Twister attempting to set up my blind in a stand of oaks. I decided to wait till the next morning when the wind was supposed to die down. So I get out early before sunup. The wind has stopped. I start calling around sunrise every 20 min and get nothing. Complete silence for two and half hrs. I start questioning my life decisions and think maybe I’ll take a quick nap. Then gobble gobble gobble VERY close behind me. I hear a hen too. It’s a tom and a hen. The hen makes her way down to my lone hen decoy and hangs out next to it for a bit. The Tom is still gobbling behind me. I don’t do any calling because he’s so close. Then I finally see him out the corner of my left eye, 20 yards away. He is so stoic and all puffed out, watching the hen down by my decoy. She starts to move away from the decoy, and I start to worry he’s going to go with her instead of checking out the decoy. I just need him to move a few more feet so I can take a shot out the blind window. He does ever so slowly and is now broadside. I draw and take a shot and miss! The hen flies away but the tom hangs around. I knock another arrow, but when I look back up, he’s facing away and I can only see the top of his fan. I let out some soft yelps and he is gobbles back. He moves away, then starts to come back. Moves away, comes back. He does this dance for 10-15 min., getting farther each time. Eventually he disappears.
I waited for another 3 hours, calling every 20 min or so, hoping he would reappear but he didn’t. Was he spooked even though he didn’t fly away? Should I have moved to a different setup after he left? Should I have waited longer? Maybe I called too much after the hen flew away. What would you have done in this situation?
New hunter and this is my second season. Haven’t filled a tag yet. Today was the closest I’ve gotten on my own. I have one weekend left and going to make the best of it.

Howdy!
I am a former partner, working as a barista back in 2020-2021 during part of my undergraduate education. As a grad student in a new state, trying to make ends meet, I’ve been half-heartedly applying to local stores for a few months now. I [F23] recently quit a small chain food service job for Numerous reasons— regardless, I’m really in need of a stable source of income.
I’m disabled, but have an incredibly strong work ethic. I often push myself to the point of exhaustion and even past it, but am learning to slow down a bit and listen to my body to avoid burnout. A majority of the 8 some-odd stores around me (a college town) are hiring, and for the past three weeks, I’ve been doing all that I can to ensure I don’t let another opportunity pass me up. Sure, other jobs exist, but I miss being a part of something bigger, classier, and in a company that genuinely cares for its employees.
Barista jobs began to pop up as students left town, but I’ve really been eyeing the handful of Shift Supervisor positions that opened. I admired, but was intimidated by, the role back when I was a 19 year old sapling. Now, with more years of work, life experiences in general, and a great deal of personal growth, I feel that I could really serve the company well. While a barista, I was told by my manager that I narrowly missed POQ two separate times. Trying to prove myself to my peers and to myself, that fact really disappointed me. I think, however, that in time, I’ll be able to surpass my past performance— and won’t be nearly as driven by such external validation. As long as the team is happy, I’ll be happy.
OKAY blah blah, get to the point, OP— I applied for Shift at my nearest store, went in and semi-jokingly asked how desperate they were for someone to fill the role, to which they responded, ‘pretty desperate.’ I’ve called a few times trying to catch the hiring manager, finally reaching them last Monday (13th). I was informed that I would receive a call back to schedule an interview by the next afternoon. I hadn’t heard anything by Wednesday, and stopped in to have a drink and decompress after a long semester. I did ask if the manager was by chance free, but alas, luck was not on my side. They did assure me, through the grapevine, that they would call me later that evening. It’s now Sunday, and I’ve heard nothing. All of this said: what should I do? Would it be rude to ask for a yes or a no? I am in need of a job to pay my bills, but I feel so inconsiderate being such a nuisance trying to show that I am available for an interview at any time convenient for the manager. I have not yet even received a denial email, in the case that you ask.
TL;DR— former barista (at 19) wants (now 23) shift position, manager said they’d call to schedule an interview by the 14th, it is now the 19th. what do?

Hello everybody, I am in a interesting spot when it comes to my work history. I have been a project manager / designer for the past 10 years. In February of this year I landed my first sales gig doing in home sales for home improvement company (garage and closets).
I went through the 2 week training and began to run appointments on my own at the start of the 3rd week. Weeks 3-8 I ran 21 appointments (19 company gen & 2 self gen).
My numbers were as followed: - 7 Jobs Sold - 9 Jobs in the pipeline - 5 Jobs Not Sold

• 33.3% Closet Rate
• $78,950 in total Sales
• $11,279 Average Sale
• $3,760 Revenue per appointment.

I was called in the office on the Friday of my 8th week and let go for “cultural differences” even though I hit and exceeded every metric they were requiring of me.
I am looking for similar jobs as I had a great time running appointments and felt I was pretty good even though it was my first real sales job.
I am concerned about listing it on my resume as it was such a short stint I feel like it would hurt my chances as getting in with another decent / reputable company.
If y’all were me would you list it or omit it from your resume even if it is the only direct applicable sales experience when searching for a similar role?
(For those wondering) I believe I was let go because leads were not flowing as anticipated; that last week I only had 1 company gen appointment and 1 self gen appointment. I also believe I was not very well liked by my sales manager. Those 2 in tandem made it an easy decision to let me go.

Has anyone ever looked at the stuff in the Accessories planogram and thought that we should call it the All Things Tacky planogram instead? Tacky hats? We got 'em. Furry journals? Got that too. I want some earrings and bracelets but not made from anything real, I don't think I deserve nice things, do you have anything like that? Do we ever!
What's this stuff even doing in a retail store? There's only two places this kind of junk should be sold: flea markets and Pakistani owned convenience stores sandwiched between the glass case holding the vape cartridges and the other glass case with all rhino themed sex pills. The only thing screaming "I was made in a sweat shop by a nine year old!" louder than this planogram is the equally tacky socks they send so much of throughout the winter months.
Everytime I look at the stuff I just think "Wow, the planet had to suffer so this cheap garbage no one wants could be made" and I get very sad. Then I have to remind myself that making this garbage gave someone a job and because of that they had the money to come to my store and by something so then I could have a job and money and go buy something from someone else's store so that they too could have a job so then they have the money to go... You get the point. And then I become even sadder because I realize how locked into this system of making shit that no one wants or needs or asked for but we make it anyway so there's a reason to work people which let's us pay them so they have the money that feeds the unstoppable machine called the economy. And because of this unstoppable machine we're never going to change our ways and instead continue to harm the only home we have so little Jill Stevens down the road can look at a BIC ink pen that someone stuck a hideous fake flower to and say she doesn't want it. And then I start thinking "How long have I been in this restroom? I definitely don't feel like I need to take a shit anymore, when did that happen? Holy shit! I've sat here so long that my legs went numb. I really gotta stop posting shit on Reddit concerning my thoughts about work. I better get back on the sales floor so no one starts complaining they hardly see me"

It was a cold, windy night in November. The kind of night where the wind howls through the trees, making them creak and groan like they’re alive. I was alone in the house. My parents had gone out for the evening, and my older brother was at a friend’s house. They wouldn’t be back until late, so it was just me, the silence, and the unsettling noises the old house made in the dark.
I was in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn, watching a movie to pass the time. I’d turned off all the lights except for the flickering glow of the TV, which cast eerie shadows on the walls. I tried not to think about how quiet it was, how empty the house felt, but the creaking and groaning of the house made it hard to ignore.
Then I heard it. A faint sound, just outside the window. I froze, the remote slipping from my hand and clattering to the floor. The noise was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by the steady thrumming of my heartbeat in my ears. I told myself it was nothing, just the wind or maybe a stray cat, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.
I forced myself to keep watching the movie, trying to lose myself in the familiar story. But then I heard it again—a soft, scraping sound, like metal against wood. This time, it was coming from the back door. I muted the TV and strained to listen, every muscle in my body tense.
The scraping turned into a quiet, persistent rattle, as if someone was trying to pick the lock. I felt a chill run down my spine. My mind raced. Should I call my parents? The police? My phone was in the kitchen, and I’d have to cross the dark hallway to get to it.
I crept off the couch, moving as silently as I could, my heart pounding in my chest. As I reached the hallway, the rattling stopped. The sudden silence was almost worse than the noise. I held my breath, listening for any sign of movement. Then, a soft thud echoed through the house. Someone was inside.
Panicking, I darted into the kitchen and grabbed my phone. I dialed 999, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped it. As I pressed the phone to my ear, I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hallway.
“999, what’s your emergency?” the operator’s voice was calm and steady, a lifeline in the darkness.
“There’s someone in my house,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Please, send help.”
I could hear the intruder moving closer, the floorboards creaking under their weight. The operator assured me that help was on the way, but I didn’t know how long it would take. I needed to hide.
I slipped into the pantry, pulling the door closed just as the footsteps entered the kitchen. Through the slats, I could see a dark figure moving around, searching for something. I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my breathing.
The intruder moved methodically, opening cupboards and drawers, the clinking of silverware and the thud of doors slamming shut filling the silence. I prayed they wouldn’t check the pantry, that they’d take whatever they wanted and leave.
But then the door creaked open, and I found myself staring into the eyes of a masked figure. I screamed, dropping my phone. The operator’s voice echoed from the floor, but I couldn’t make out the words. The intruder lunged at me, and I scrambled backwards, my hand closing around a can of soup. Without thinking, I hurled it at their head.
The can connected with a sickening thud, and the intruder staggered, giving me a moment to escape. I bolted from the pantry, tearing through the house and out the front door. I didn’t stop running until I reached the neighbor’s house, where I banged on the door, sobbing and gasping for breath.
The police arrived minutes later, lights flashing and sirens wailing. They found the intruder unconscious in the kitchen, the mask still on their face. I later learned they’d been a wanted criminal, breaking into homes in the area.
That night changed me. The house never felt the same—its comforting creaks and groans now sounded like threats. And I never forgot the terror of seeing those eyes in the dark, the feeling of being hunted in my own home.

I (32M) set a date with a girl (24F) from a dating app I was really excited to meet three days ago to check out a museum. A couple nights before our date I had a few drinks and have been hungover since (I'm sensitive to alcohol and get hungover even from just a few drinks). I thought I'd be fine the day of the date. I drank tons of water and did everything I could to feel better. I texted her in the morning to confirm our date. But later in the day today i just realized I'd be a wreck and better off canceling and hoping she would be open to rescheduling then stumbling on my words and being spacey.
I pushed our plans out 30 mins hoping the extra time would be enough for me to go for a run and wake myself up, but I still felt horrible. So about an hour before our date I called her and told her the truth. I was very apologetic and offered to rescheduled for Wednesday this week, but told her to think about it and I didn't need an answer right then. She laughed when I told her I was hungover but her response was pretty neutral overall. Is this something I can recover from? Is it worth sending another apology text or should I just let it sit and follow up in a day or two?

What do I need to do to be able to create a mesh manually? I'm about to give up on getting the probe to do it.
So far I've checked to make sure the y rail wheels are making contact and adjusted those, installed one of the user-designed brackets to move the y offset of probe to zero, and used pronterface to update the probe position, and I use prusaslicer with custom g code to call up the saved mesh. I'm also using a glass bed for now because the bed carriage and way warped and the glass bed seems to help give a more flat surface.
Leveling prints have improved with the probe offset update, but it's still off from front to back slightly. I'll have to go back over all the changes again to make sure I did them right I guess, but at this point, I'm inclined to just try a manual mesh so that I get a good z where the nozzle actually is.
Other physical upgrades I'm considering are a new mount plate for the bed since the stock one is really warped. I'm also thinking of doing a diy y rail kit that a nice user put together because I know my y rail at least has a ding in one spot. I was hoping I could get a decent level from front to back even if this one little spot is bad.
This printer belongs to my job, and I'm just tired of messing with it at this point, especially after I got myself a Prusa Mk4 for personal use, and it just friggin works.

Welcome back to my running series of WWF PPV Reviews from a ‘blind’ perspective (I have no idea what’s going to happen; the results, the feuds or how good any of the matches will be). I have always heard stories of the attitude era and golden age but never watched it myself so I set myself to watching every single PPV event chronologically. I am also watching Wrestling Bios ‘reliving the war’ series to keep me updated inbetween the events with the feuds, and to get excited about upcoming matches.
Before I review the matches, based on the past few episodes of raw and last PPVs I’ll let you know, going into the event, which match I’m most excited for and which feud I’m most excited to see.
The match I’m most excited to see has gotta be Bret hart vs Undertaker. Two absolute all timers in the ring for the championship at summerslam? I mean come on what else can I pick it’s a sure fire banger.
The feud im most excited to see is actually Mankind vs HHH, I think they’ve got a really good dynamic and opening the show after last Ppv is genuinely exciting.
WWF Summerslam 1997 Match Ratings
HHH vs Mankind Steel Cage Match 2.75/5
Goldust vs Brian Pillman 1/5
The Godwinns vs Legion of Doom 1.25/5
Bulldog vs Shamrock 2.25/5
Los Boricuas vs Disciples of Apocalypse 0.5/5
Owen Hart vs Stone Cold Steve Austin 3.5/5
Bret Hart vs Undertaker 4.25/5
The steel cage match is actually the first I’ve seen since starting this journey so well over a year with no kind of cage match, definitely adds a level of anticipation and excitement.
In terms of the actual match tho it wasn’t anything too special and honestly their match at Canadian stampede was way more entertaining. There were however a couple of completely nuts spots, mankind being suplexed from the top of the cage, and mankind delivering a flying elbow from the top of the cage, he is just an insane man; how he did all these crazy bumps never ending his career super early or anything is just divine intervention. It’s good entertainment but it wasn’t the best match. It is however very telling of what’s to come in the WWF with upcoming PPVs, with hell in a cell and more insane high flying spots.
What I am loving is Mick Foleys character development, he comes to the ring as mankind, does his bang bang as a call back to cactus jack and at the end when he’s hurt, dude loves music plays, his foot starts moving and he starts dancing (ish). Everyone absolutely loved it and so did I.
The Pillman match against Goldust was very boring, I didn’t expect too much as I’m not that big of a Goldust fan if I’m completely honest; I just think he isn’t that exciting to watch. Pillman ends up losing which means… he has to wear a dress on raw? 😂 this whole gimmick match and feud is just an L for me. The crowd was surprisingly into it, but I don’t really know what to say about it, it was just a snooze fest.
Looking this match up I realised Pillman was injured during this event and he sadly passed away two months after this. Rest in peace he was a fantastic unhinged character and that’s a real shame. He just couldn’t perform as his body wouldn’t let him anymore.
Well that’s a rather sour note but let’s move onto the most established entertaining tag team at this point in the WWF legion of doom. But it’s a real shame that they had to get in with the godwinns as when the godwinns were in control which was over half the match they seriously slowed to to a snails pace, holding for way way too long. That spike piledriver at the end was cool by the legion of doom but to be honest most of the match was just another snoozefest. Just skip the last two matches.
Inbetween the next match there’s a SEVEN MINUTE section where they had this million dollar chance between a couple of live contestants and a couple of phone calls, no one ends up winning and it’s just pointless. Man the start to this event has been a mixed bag…
Shamrock actually has a very valid reason to be mad at the bulldog, with him having the bulldog throw dog food on him, so let’s hope this is a physical match to really get this PPV going.
And it was decently physical to be fair to them, I’m not sure I’m shamrock was out on his feet for a portion of it as he was no selling a few punches and had a busted lip so there’d been some sort of connection somewhere. Like I say though the angle they were going for was cooler than the actual match and it was satisfying seeing that after the match shamrock got himself DQd and just lost it, beating the bulldog after he threw dog food on him again, holding a chin lock on him so long he passes out, using finishers in referees, this was cool. The match was about restoring his honour in a way and he certainly did that. The crowd goes nuts and he’s in the ring just screaming, bloody brilliant. The actual match was a little lacking though and this should set up for a good match coming up.
And oh boy was I wrong genuinely I don’t know why but this match was so awful. For pretty much 90% of the time the wrestlers just didn’t know what to do. There were no impressive spots, no playing to the crowd, no psychology just nada. Like the last event I watched the ppv can benefit from less matches that are better booked. I don’t know why this match exists, I don’t know what it achieved. One thing that was insane was the amount of body hair Perez has… like it’s an insane amount, it’s not normal 😂 I couldn’t help but just look at it in complete awe like what the hell am I seeing? But when a man’s body hair is more entertaining than the match that’s a problem. When the pinfall came the crowd literally, I’m not joking, had 0 reaction. Avoid like the plague.
The next match I’m honestly having really mixed feelings about. Owen hart and Austin on paper should be a good match, and that it is… but this is when Austin’s neck was broken and he was temporarily paralysed after a botched piledriver. So this means… Austin is probably gunna go more part time after this. I don’t know this but I’m just assuming but we’ll see. IM NOT READY!!
Before I mention the injury again, the match was going extremely well and it was a tremendously entertaining bout. I find it crazy that they were making a big deal of Owen working the neck only for him to actually break it. The different styles of the wrestlers, Owen being technical and stone cold being a brawler really made for a pure class match. I’d imagine they were going to go a bit longer but had to come up with a new finish on the spot so credit to them for that. And ouch it was a horrible spot to see, knowing what was coming up I winced and cringed so hard when it happened. Owen does a good job of playing up to the crowd after the botch and covering over for the pinfall but seeing Austin just completely dead in the ring like that is heartbreaking after seeing his rise. They played it off so well in fact that the crowd doesn’t really seem to notice. Austin seems to insist on getting himself standing up and raising the belt, and he refuses help until he gets out of the arena, truly amazing dedication to the wwf and why he was and is a superstar. It’s a real shame it had to end like that because again they were performing really well and putting on a good show. Reading about it Austin was out for 3 months after this and apparently Owen hart was meant to drop to his knees not sit down which had a big part to do with the botch. GOD DAMN IT!! But we all know he returns an even bigger superstar, so I’ve got that to look forward to.
Okay enough about the injury, let’s get onto the main event.
Shawn being the referee and knowing the fighting that was happening backstage for real between Bret and Shawn made this really exciting. I bet this is gunna be full of drama!
The match starts off at break-neck pace (pun intended) with Bret hart smashing undertaker across the back with a belt and there’s no DQ because the bell hasn’t been rung yet. They exchange blows together as it goes back and forth in and out of the ring and I’m loving every second. Paul bearer eventually makes his way to the ring only the be smacked multiple times right on the jaw and god there’s something so satisfying about Paul bearer getting clocked. Multiple times Shawn is actually acting as a good referee which adds to the drama as Bret is keeping a close eye on him. Some of the hart foundation also come to the outside of the ring and undertaker does his iconic lean on the ropes to almost backflip outside the ring which looks so good and beats the hell out of them. I thought this would be dramatic!
This match was actually an absolute banger I really enjoyed it. Hart plays his heel perfectly as usual during the whole bout and when he’s eventually victorious the ring is filled with trash and people showering him with abuse. I thought even though this was a pretty long match at 30 minutes they were able to fill most of it with good action. The last 5 minutes were especially dramatic with a steel chair getting involved, Shawn is hurt on the outside and hart smacks undertaker clean across the head with it, Shawn notices the chair when he comes back into the ring and calls Bret out, Bret then spits on Shawn and he ducks as Shawn swings for him with the chair, he hits undertaker and that’s all she wrote. I think the match could’ve benefitted from being a bit shorter in all honesty; focus the action down to a shorter time but a longer match with Shawn as the special referee, undertaker vs Bret, WWF title, you can’t complain about it being too long. I would’ve liked to have seen a bit more offense from undertaker as his striking ability and in ring moves are so exciting to watch. But great match and it felt like a big main event as it should do at summerslam.
Overall the PPV had a great ending, a good start, and a terrible mid card. I really hope they don’t go back to booking boring mid cards with wrestlers they know can’t put on a show, instead they can stick with less matches with more quality. I did enjoy watching this though. I think the PPV will always be known for the piledriver botch but I think the main event is worth a watch as well. I also think this event was worth noting that a lot of people feel this is the beginning of the attitude era, people saying survivor series as well or December 1997 but we’ll see.
Overall rating 2.75/5

I believed in fairies as a kid. More than believed in them. I think something terrible happened to me, and I've just buried it until now.
Call me a typical emotion-bottling man, but I have never considered therapy. No matter what I went through, no matter how many times I thought to myself, verbatim, that I should talk to someone about this, I just never thought of it as an option. It simply wasn't on my roster. It was just one of those things that existed on a separate plane of existence than I was living in, never to cross paths or interact lest the universe collapse in on itself.
I have no problem with therapy, don't get me wrong. It isn't like I don't understand the overall appeal. I have plenty of friends who swear by it, swear it has helped them tremendously, including my wife. It just wasn't ever something I thought was in my cards.
"I just never really thought about it," I told Alice one evening, when she had brought the topic up once again after dinner.
There was a serene sense of peace wafting through the entire house that day, and I was feeling content. It was a Sunday, and swimming season, so we had dropped Emmie off that morning at the public pool for practice and gone straight to our favorite breakfast place. The rest of the day was filled with all the conversation that had built up over the week, all the topics we couldn't fully dig into with each other while babysitting our eight year old, and lounging, all crammed in between sporadic bursts of housework and paperwork we had to catch up on. It was the perfect day, in my humble opinion. It was a lovely moment of peace in the midst of a chaotic life, as is life with kids. And now the sounds of Mario Kart drifted in from the living room, Emmie's squeals cutting through the cheery music every now and then, causing Alice and I to share small smiles of acknowledgement.
Oh, to be a child again. Still a little drenched from a post-swimming shower, full of chili, eyes glowing with the reflection of a television screen.
"Well, maybe you should." My wife was scooping leftover chili into a Tupperware with a ladle. Her hair had been tied up like it was every day after dinner, as if she planned to run a marathon rather than do the cleaning up. She wasn't looking at me, dialed into the task at hand.
It's crazy how some parts of my memory could be so good, and others nonexistent.
I reached over from where I stood before the dishwasher, sliding my arm around her waist. She gave me a look, like, what?
"I just don't think it's for me, babe," I muttered, resting my mouth on her shoulder as if I was trying to skip her ears and speak right through her skin. "You know those things make me uncomfortable sometimes."
She let out a half groan, half sigh, setting down the container and the ladle and turning to face me, draping her arms over my shoulders.
"Everything makes you uncomfortable, John."
I smiled, letting my hands fall to her hips. I knew her frustrated act was just that, an act, at least for the most part.
"It's good for you," she continued pointedly, reaching up to tap her pointer finger against my forehead as I swayed her back and forth to a nonexistent tune. "Like medicine. And I know for a fact there are some things you need to work through."
I feigned offense. "You think I'm some kind of nut job?"
"Everyone needs therapy," she snarled, pulling out of my arms, but she didn't resist when I reached out and drew her back in. "Not just nut jobs."
And that was how most of those conversations went. Some got a little more heated, ending with a lightly slammed door (so as not to wake our daughter) and a whisper-shout of "this is why you need therapy!"
I feel I'm making it sound bad, but it wasn't. Even our more serious fights never quite felt like fights. They felt like playing. We were like two cats, biting and tackling and swishing our tails, but never baring our teeth to hiss. I never felt genuine, full-bodied anger towards her, and I knew she felt the same. It sounds sappy, but we were just very in love. I sometimes felt that we had never actually left the honeymoon phase.
I'm also making it sound like that conversation was incredibly common, and it wasn't. It came up maybe once every few months. I knew she was just looking out for me. She knew me better than anyone.
We had met through mutual friends, and we had initially bonded over our terrible childhoods. We both had moms who were out of the picture, and over emotional, over compensating dads, although this manifested in vastly different ways. Alice's mother left her father for a D-list rockstar type, following him on his state wide tour. She would sometimes send Alice letters or postcards from the road, although her dad wouldn't always let her keep them if they seemed to be stained with blood or seemed to have made contact with any strange white powders.
Her dad coped with anger. He never laid a hand on her, but his shouting and the sounds of glass bottles smashing against the walls kept her up almost every night. During the days he'd take her out, buy her things, go mini golfing and bowling and to the movies. Anything to seem more fun than her mother.
My mother passed away on my seventh birthday. She was driving home from work, which was at a law firm half an hour away from our house, when it began to rain. She was texting my dad her ETA when she ran a red light and a semi truck T-boned her, completely obliterating her car.
After that, everything changed. My seventh birthday could've been my twenty-first. At night it was the worst. I remember sitting with my dad as he cried, curled up in a sobbing ball on the filthy living room carpet, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He would scream and wail so loud the walls shook. He would say, over and over as if I wasn't hearing him, sometimes mumbling and sometimes shrieking, "She was cut in half. I'm sorry sir, she's gone. No, there's no chance she survived, she was completely cut in half."
The days were almost worse. During the day, when he could decrease the helpless wails into weeping at the very least, his attention turned to me. He tried to get something out of me, almost silently begging me to break down with him. Every other second it was, "How are you feeling, son? Do you understand what's happening? You poor thing, you must be devastated, your mommy is gone... Don't you want to cry?"
But I couldn't indulge, and I didn't want to. I had to wash the sheets, because he'd pissed them again, and I didn't want him to sleep in it and smell like pee when he took me to school the next day. I had to vacuum the carpet, so the next time he curled up on it and begged God to take him too, when he finally stood up, his cheek wouldn't be caked in crumbs and dust.
I don't know if I ever truly mourned. My mother's death was more like an absence, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and carved a chunk out of my side, or snipped off a limb. I could still feel her, I could still talk to her, but all I got back was a deep ache and a crushing silence.
I hated how people reacted when I told them my mom was dead, and had been since I was a little boy. I hated the looks on their faces when they asked how she died, and when I told them. How their mouths fell open dumbly and their eyebrows twisted and contorted in sympathetic horror. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," they said, as if there was vomit rising in their throats, and I wanted to say, "Well, you fucking asked, didn't you?"
Alice never reacted like that. In fact, she never really even asked me what happened. We were on our second date, nursing beers while leaning against the pool table a a dingy speakeasy, when she told me about her own mom. It was the first time in a long time I actually felt like the conversation was open, like I could respond and she would listen and care, but not too much. Not an uncomfortable amount. When I told her about my parents she didn't say anything, and her pretty face didn't contort. She leaned over the corner of the pool table and kissed me on the cheek, took my hand.
The day she found out she was pregnant, we promised each other to be better, to not let our child ever have to grieve alone or feel the very specific hopeless terror that only a parent can cause.
So maybe I should have listened to her. Maybe I should have gone to therapy the first time she brought it up, the first time she told me how it had helped her get through her own terrible memories. But if I'm being honest, I didn't think I had anything to get through. I had left it in the past, I had coped so far in my own somewhat crooked way, I didn't want to dig any of that back up. I didn't want to be put back in that place where I was expected to talk, to cry, to open up. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it.
"I was always the therapist," I would say to her with a crooked grin. "And I like it that way."
Then, the dreams started.
I could tell you I don't know what triggered them, I don't know why it was now. But that wouldn't be the truth. I know exactly why I started to remember.
At first, they were brief. Nightmares that I couldn't quite recall or explain, waking up disoriented and a little sick. The rest of my day would feel strange, like I was surrounded by a thick fog. Eventually, they started to wake me up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, scaring the shit out of my wife. Once I ran to the bathroom and threw up, barely making it to the toilet. That was when the word "therapy" came up again.
It feels like I've been in a coma for twenty years, and I'm just waking up now.
It's so strange how different the world looks to a child.
I believed in fairies as a kid. Laugh it up if you want. When I turned four, my aunt brought me this book - we've all had one, I think. It was one of those huge hardcover books filled with information about something mythical, with little patches of fabric to simulate a mermaid's scales or a dragon's claw.
Mine was about fairies, and it was so real to me. My mom would sit up with me later than she probably should have, reading to me, placing my hand on the textures to feel. I wanted to know everything about them, I became obsessed, and naturally, my parents played along. They bought me toys, books... every year I had a fae themed birthday cake, and any kid who dared to giggle behind their hands weren't invited to next year's celebration.
When I was old enough to use the internet, supervised of course, I began further research. My mom helped me navigate Wikipedia first, and they had plenty of information to sustain me for a while. My interest turned from wings and magical powers to different types of fae from every corner of the earth, mushroom rings and their alleged distaste for iron. While I still wasn't very good at reading, I would just look at the pictures until she got home from work.
When my mom died, the fairy memorabilia began to amp up. My aunt bought me new books, gave them to me wrapped and tied with ribbons with tear filled eyes, and my dad brought them up whenever he thought I needed comforting and felt strong enough to leave the house. "Wanna go look in the forest for fairies, son?"
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I began to worship the fairies. I was convinced they lived in the forest behind my house, just behind each tree I looked at, hiding from me. I would spend my weekends escaping into the woods with a bucket and a cheap pair of binoculars, positive that this time, this day, I would see one.
At night, when my dad finally passed out in his own puddle of tears and other bodily fluids, I would pray to them. I never believed in God, we weren't a particularly religious family, and besides, I had seen what good He had done for my dad thus far. But I believed in the fairies.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
They never answered.
Until they did.
It was a Friday. I remember now, I'm not sure how I could have forgotten. After school I had sprinted into the shade of the trees before my dad could stop me, gripping the hem of my shirt in my fist, the thin fabric bearing the weight of two handfuls of the shiniest silverware and most colorful buttons I could find in our dusty cabinets.
I had a plan that day. I was going to lure them to me.
My path began in a clearing where I thought a ring of mushrooms may have begun to grow... but even without that, it was just the perfect spot for fairies. I could picture them flitting between the trees, chirping to each other happily, picking wildflowers to weave into flower crowns.
I walked backwards all the way back to my bedroom window, dropping another item every few steps. When I got inside and looked out my window, I could see my trail of shiny things curve through the overgrown grass in our backyard and disappear into the trees.
I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. Tonight, surely, they would come to me. They would show themselves, and they would help me. But after another few late hours of coddling my father, finally convincing him to drink some water and get in bed, I was exhausted. I completely forgot about my plan. When I got to my room I collapsed on my mattress, not even bothering to undress before I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it. The scratching.
I opened my eyes. The moonlight shining through my bedroom window casted strange shadows across my ceiling, shadows of the swaying grass and the creaking trees.
It was strangely silent, other than the sound. Usually there was lots of noise, or at the very least a few crickets, but not tonight. Tonight, I realized, I couldn't even hear the wind.
I sat up slowly, as if in a dream, and looked toward my window. I couldn't see anything out there, nothing glaringly obvious at least, that could be making that noise.
The scratching turned to a tap. Tap tap tap, like a fingernail against a glass. It had a playful air to it, like someone was saying, look over here!
I stood, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled over. The tapping stopped abruptly when I got to the window and peered outside, out to the dark yard, pitch black if not for the moon's glow. The grass didn't sway, the trees didn't creak. I frowned and unlatched the window, sliding it up above my head.
I was right, there was no wind. Not even a gust. Everything was still outside, like it was frozen. I actually started to believe it was frozen, that time had stopped completely somehow, before I saw it.
My trail of silverware and buttons. Sparkling softly in the moonlight.
Disappearing.
It began where the path met the trees, curving off where I couldn't follow it anymore. A fork disappeared right before my eyes, right on the edge. Just vanished, as if someone who was invisible had picked it up and stuffed it in a pocket very quickly.
Then another went, a spoon. Then a particularly large gold button. Whatever was taking them was doing what I had wanted, it was taking my bait, it was coming to me. And it was as if whatever had tapped at my window had wanted me to see this, wanted to show me.
But something felt very, very wrong.
This wasn't how I had pictured it. There was no twinkling, tiny winged thing at my window, winking at me before dashing back into the safety of the trees. There were no secrets being whispered in my ear, no fairy dust or promises of better things.
Something about this wasn't right. It felt like a mimicry, almost a mockery, of what I had imagined. Like something was trying to give me what I wanted, but was rusty at it.
I didn't want this anymore.
My stomach twisted and my hands shook as I pulled the window back down slowly, watching more glittery things disappear from the grass, growing closer and closer. As soon as it was closed I quickly locked it and pulled the blinds shut, turning my back to the window as if something would happen that I didn't want to see.
Nothing happened. The deafening silence continued for a few seconds as my ears strained to hear anything else happening outside. Then the wind picked up, and the sounds of crickets, muffled by my closed window, filled the night air.
I don't remember when I fell asleep that night, I just know I felt unnerved and jumpy for a while. I woke up the next morning feeling guilty. Had the fairies really come last night? Maybe they had come to talk to me, to bring me gifts, favors, and what had I done? I had closed my window on them. I felt ungrateful. Why had I even been scared? Because it was dark outside? What was I, a baby?
When I opened my window and peered outside, I gasped. The trail of silverware and buttons was completely gone, all the way up to the last one, which I had placed on my windowsill. In its place was a shoe. I didn't know what kind of shoe it was, but it looked sort of nice, fancy. I remember smiling out the window as I opened it, as if they were looking, and taking my gift.
How could I forget that night? How could I have forgotten what happened after? I feel crazy, either like I made it all up or like I've made up everything since then, like my life isn't truly my own.
I remember telling my dad. I remember saying, "Dad, the fairies came last night!" and the absent smile he gave me.
Until I showed him their gift. The shoe. Instantly his face went pale and he snatched it from my hands, staring at me as if I was something unholy.
"Where did you get this, Johnny?"
"The fairies, dad, I told you!"
He didn't respond. Just gave me another long, solemn look, before turning away from me, still holding the present I received close to his chest. I was upset, but I knew better than throwing a tantrum. That would be too much emotion anyways, too uncomfortable. Even back then, I didn't know how to handle those things.
I didn't show him their gifts after that. I didn't want to risk having them taken away. I tried not to be scared of the fairies, even though they always came at night, but I didn't go to my window when they came anymore. I read everywhere that fairies didn't particularly like to be seen, even though this one seemed to want to be. It always began with tapping, but otherwise complete silence that almost felt like it was swallowing me... and eventually the tapping would stop, the silence would pass, and I would fall asleep. In the morning there was always another gift for me, sitting on my window sill. A sparkly gold ring, the other matching shoe, a hat... I smiled when I took every one, wanting them to know I was grateful. And I would leave things for them too, little sweets or shiny things like coins or paperclips that I found on the ground at school.
Things seemed to get better with my dad for a while. He kept to himself more, he was quieter. At night he would cry softly in his room, rather than his uproarious wails that I used to have to quell so the neighbors wouldn't come knocking. During the day, he would talk to me, but more casually. He didn't ask me how I was feeling anymore, or tell me to let it out.
I hoped this was the fairies. I felt invincible, like I had a secret superpower that no one knew about. I was friends with fairies.
Then one night, everything changed.
It started with the tapping, as always. That night I was fast asleep, catching up on well earned rest since the nightly therapy sessions had ceased.
The tapping woke me. It was that loud. It was louder than usual... but it seemed like it stopped abruptly as soon as I raised my head to look.
That was different...
That night, I had left my blinds up and my window open by accident. Since that first night, even though I wasn't scared anymore, I had always closed them... but this time, I must have forgotten.
It was silent outside. It seemed darker than usual. I could almost make out something, a shape, way on the other side of the yard, but it was too dark and I was too far away to tell.
That feeling from that first night retuned. A twisting like a hand reaching into my stomach and mixing things around, a heavy feeling in my chest like someone had stolen all of the air from my room, even though the window was open. The silence seemed to crush me, bearing down on me from every angle, making my ribs hurt.
The feeling that something was very wrong.
I don't remember deciding to stand: looking back, I have no idea why I would do that in my state of fight or flight. I don't know if I consciously chose to. I don't remember walking over, but I remember getting there, my hands on the windowsill and my head poking out into the completely still night air.
There was something there. On the edge of the trees. Right where I had seen that first fork disappear into thin air. I squinted, leaning further into the darkness to try and make out what it was.
When I finally did, the outline taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to shake uncontrollably. I remember that I tried to scream, but no sound would come. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare.
Two legs stood in front of the trees, facing me. Two legs, a blood-soaked pair of slacks, no shoes on the purple, swollen feet. And a jagged, violent rip in the torso where the rest of my mother's body had been severed from its lower half.
It took me a while to realize that the legs weren't standing on their own. They began to move, jerking clumsily toward the window, like something I couldn't see was struggling to hold them up. I finally forced myself out of my trance and fell to my carpet, vomiting.
I don't remember much else about that night yet. My dad came running when I started crying, I'm sure, but he didn't see what I saw. My mom's legs were gone, or hidden. Because they weren't for him.
They were for me.
We moved after that. Before now if you had asked me why we moved so far away so suddenly, I probably would have mumbled something about the grief, and it being too hard to stay where my mother had died. But I remember why now.
It was because the next morning, when I checked my windowsill, there was a hand. My mother's hand. Purple and stiff, and missing her gold wedding ring. Reaching, fingers rested against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
Like it had been tapping.
I don't want to think about what else it might have brought, had we stayed.
That thing, whatever it was, wasn't my mother, and it wasn't a fairy. I had invited something else with all my praying, with all my naive and innocent beliefs, and with all my bottled up emotions. I had invited it, and I had let it in.
And then I had forgotten everything. Maybe I bottled that up, too.
Now I remember. Now I'm having nightmares, and waking up with that sick feeling in my gut, my eyes jumping to our closed bedroom window.
Because a week ago, my daughter woke me up very early in the morning my jumping on our bed. A week ago, she shook me awake, her eager smile stretching all the way across her face. A week ago, she told me, "Dad, the fairies came last night!"
She showed me a doll, a ballerina, with a pink tutu and beautiful long blonde hair.
And now, with all these terrible memories hitting me like cold water to the face, only one keeps me awake at night.
I asked them for help with my father. I asked them for peace. I asked them to bring her back to me.
It has granted two of my wishes, in its own twisted way. My father grew distant from me and my mother was brought back in pieces.
I'm happy now. But I don't have peace. I don't think I'll ever fully have peace, at least not with a child and a wife to try and provide for, and not with all of these memories.
So what has it come back for?

TL;DR: Wife fired from job, I'm left conflicted on whether to stay or not.
For background we have been together for 9 years now, married for 4. A couple weeks ago my wife was fired from her job. She's worked there since 2018 and was still there even during Covid, so her being dropped was a surprise. It was hard for both of us, as we're used to being a double income household and had to downscale a bit on our needs. I can provide for both of us but it's still uncomfortable having one less income. She's been trying to find a job, but so far it's been fruitless for us both.
Lately I've been wondering if this relationship is worth staying in. I've been questioning what she did to get fired from her job. She hasn't said much about it lately which concerns me, as it feels like she's keeping something from me. I don't want to be connected to someone who did something fire-worthy as it could harm both our reputations. She says that the company "downsized" and she was let go, but I feel like she's saying that to downplay what actually happened. There has to be a reason she got fired. Most companies wouldn't just drop someone like that.
The day she told me that I asked what she did and she claimed she did nothing, causing us to argue, and I haven't brought it up since just to keep the peace. I am left conflicted on whether I should stay with her or not, because we do have many good memories as a couple, but I don't feel like I should stay with someone who was fired from her job like that. I don't really know what to do anymore and it's getting harder to feel like I should stay. I worry she'll start to catch on to this as well and I don't want to have to explain this all to her and start another fight. Since I have no other options I've come here for advice on what to do.
Is it a good idea to ride it out in hopes things improve or should I just call it quits?

Howdy!
I am a former partner, working as a barista back in 2020-2021 during part of my undergraduate education. As a grad student in a new state, trying to make ends meet, I’ve been half-heartedly applying to local stores for a few months now. I [F23] recently quit a small chain food service job for Numerous reasons— regardless, I’m really in need of a stable source of income.
I’m disabled, but have an incredibly strong work ethic. I often push myself to the point of exhaustion and even past it, but am learning to slow down a bit and listen to my body to avoid burnout. A majority of the 8 some-odd stores around me (a college town) are hiring, and for the past three weeks, I’ve been doing all that I can to ensure I don’t let another opportunity pass me up. Sure, other jobs exist, but I miss being a part of something bigger, classier, and in a company that genuinely cares for its employees.
Barista jobs began to pop up as students left town, but I’ve really been eyeing the handful of Shift Supervisor positions that opened. I admired, but was intimidated by, the role back when I was a 19 year old sapling. Now, with more years of work, life experiences in general, and a great deal of personal growth, I feel that I could really serve the company well. While a barista, I was told by my manager that I narrowly missed POQ two separate times. Trying to prove myself to my peers and to myself, that fact really disappointed me. I think, however, that in time, I’ll be able to surpass my past performance— and won’t be nearly as driven by such external validation. As long as the team is happy, I’ll be happy.
OKAY blah blah, get to the point, OP— I applied for Shift at my nearest store, went in and semi-jokingly asked how desperate they were for someone to fill the role, to which they responded, ‘pretty desperate.’ I’ve called a few times trying to catch the hiring manager, finally reaching them last Monday (13th). I was informed that I would receive a call back to schedule an interview by the next afternoon. I hadn’t heard anything by Wednesday, and stopped in to have a drink and decompress after a long semester. I did ask if the manager was by chance free, but alas, luck was not on my side. They did assure me, through the grapevine, that they would call me later that evening. It’s now Sunday, and I’ve heard nothing. All of this said: what should I do? Would it be rude to ask for a yes or a no? I am in need of a job to pay my bills, but I feel so inconsiderate being such a nuisance trying to show that I am available for an interview at any time convenient for the manager. I have not yet even received a denial email, in the case that you ask.
TL;DR— former barista (at 19) wants (now 23) shift position, manager said they’d call to schedule an interview by the 14th, it is now the 19th. what do?

I know it's time to go. I feel resentful, empty, especially used
This will be long, and messy and might not make any sense, but I'm lost. I'm like so fucking lost I am slipping into a dark hole I haven't slipped in to for a verrrryyy long time 😭😭😭
For context, my partner and I both work in a niched world of the trades where we work away from home on shift work.... and also for context, we met on a job a few years back. *since then we have worked together (not always directly side by side, but on the same job). This is what makes it extremely hard to go
Backstory: He was in the middle of his divorce when we got together. Due to my situation and his, (at the time) we thought financially it would make the most sense for us to move in. What a mistake. Due to his/our work lifestyle, he only gets his kids on weekends during his days off. Maybe once a month, sometimes twice.
He pays over 2k a month in CS, and over 1.5k in spousal to HCBM. Lawyer fees have been high and rampant. HCBM is always an issue. There isn't enough money leftover to cover his own bills. In-between jobs he claims EI and that just BARELY covers it. It is up for review every July, and in theory, he shouldn't have to pay as much for the next year.
The place we rent, we got under the assumption that both of us would be paying, but that's not what's happening. I am paying the following for our home (AKA everything) / per month I pay: $2350 in rent $370 in utilities $150 for internet and cable ???? in groceries (I also have to pay when both young kids are at our place) I also paid for our renters insurance which was $380 for the year New Clothes for skids is probably spent 65me/35him Who knows what else I'm forgetting......
I have known for a while that resentment has started creeping in. More than creeping in. I am so disengaged from comversations with him, I don't care to be intimate. Basically at this point, it feels as though I am only sticking around on the premise of he has more connections than me at work, and our line of work is very very slow at the moment. Honestly... in a sick n twisted way I feel like it's the least he can do is help get me on a job somewhere as I'm literally covering his AND his kids asses for over the last year. It also is worth mentioning that most of the major big wigs for the company we work for, equally loves us. If we spilt I would still be faced with him almost daily (assumption is most likely case)
When money wasn't such an issue, I don't think I really had such strong resentful and bitter feelings. Or perhaps because he was carrying some part of his half of things, it just pushed those feelings down. Maybe like a bandaid covering
A HUGE thing for me is small white lies he tells about HCBM. He thinks they don't matter, but they do. He lies about when he talks to her, has deleted phone call histories. She's sent pictures of herself with ss and he deleted them thinking I wouldn't see, instead of telling HCBM that's crossing a boundary that had already been established
This is honestly just as big of a problem, if not more than the money tbh. I also resent the fact that he so called "hated this woman, she's awful she's this she's that" and yet chose to have a child with this person. After two miscarriages, still didn't take the precautions and knocked her up... AGAIN. Got married a month after finding out she was pregnant the 3rd time over. "He didn't ask her, she said she should have the same last name as the kid". Like fucking spare me????? If that wasn't enough, it also makes it worse when he decided to knock her up AGAIN 3 years after their first born. I can't believe the stories he's told me about her, and it has unfortunately made me judge him, and made me feel as if I don't know the man I'm with. I resent him for being so careless. People are allowed to have different views on marriage and children, but never have I ever thought I'd be so careless to just have a child with whom someone I "despise". We are very different that way, and it's a problem for me
So. Now I feel incredibly used. I feel incredibly trapped. I feel incredibly drained. If I leave my current trades industry and go back to what I have a degree in, I likely won't be able to pay for all of my bills that I have racked up because of his mess. I am lost, feel hopeless
Oh and did I mention I'm only 27f? Yeh. That's an absolute bummer. 😔

I received an email to rate my customer service experience with the local power company. I thought it was probably a bug with their system, but called to ask what was up since I had not contacted them and it felt weird.
It turns out that my next door neighbor called and a CSR accessed my account because the neighbor asked if my address was part of a service notice they had received.
I was on hold for about 15 minutes and it seems that the associate I was speaking with had listened to the call because they were talking about how "sweet" my neighbor was and how the neighbor had said that I "was such a sweet girl and just going through so much that [she] just wanted to make sure everything was okay."
I need to be clear here: I'm in my 40s and I am not "going through so much." I'm going through literally nothing. Nobody in my house is "going through so much." Blissfully peaceful over here.
My neighbors are an older couple who retired a couple of years ago because minding my business was apparently a full-time job and they wanted to make sure they could keep up with it. The husband half of the couple grew so obsessed with how I was keeping my yard that I had to build a solid six foot high fence along the property line to keep him out. I was relieved when they flipped out HARD about the fence and stopped speaking to me about a year ago.
For the last couple of months though, the husband has been trying to be friendly in an awkward and somewhat aggressive manner. I suspect that he's in trouble with his wife, who I guess thinks we were friends but is also an awful person and I was just friendly with because we live next to each other.
My question for y'all through is this: what in the world does someone gain from asking the power company for information? The CSR said that she (neighbor) called to see if a service notice was a scam (what? how would a "your power will be out from 3pm to 5pm directly from the power company be a scam? I think she's lying about this.) ) and then wanted to know if it pertained to me as well. She was so concerned that she gave them my address to check my house specifically, not just like "oh, is this for the whole neighborhood?"

hi everyone! i'm looking for a good travel backpack for a few different trips i plan on taking within the next few years. i'm going to be moving abroad soon (not sure which country yet - in the process of finding a job haha) and want a bag that will be a good carry-on in addition to a larger checked bag and personal item for the move. further, i plan on taking a lot of weekend trips to explore the country/region i end up in and want the bag to be able to work on its own and carry all my stuff for 2-3 day trips. lastly, i plan on backpacking europe for around 3 months eventually and want the bag to be up to that challenge as well. that's a few years off so i don't have much more info than that, but i think around a 35l bag will work?
i'll be taking public transportation a lot and sometimes a long walk to a hostel, but other than that i don't plan on having the bag with me too much as i actually explore cities. if need be, i plan on putting it in a locker while i walk around lol.
i'm very small (less than 5'0) but love clothes so the bag will need to be small enough to work for me but big enough to fit all my stuff. price range is probably $150-200
i had my heart set on the cotopaxi allpa, but after reading some reviews i think i should pass tbh. plus, i think the 42l would be too big and the 35l doesn't have a water bottle pocket, which is definitely a necessity for me. i still really like the clamshell design of the bag though. i've heard really good things about osprey and i like their transporter global carry on. i've always liked fjallraven products as well and like how the splitpack 30 and ulvo 30 look. does anyone have any experience with any of those bags??? or other recommendations??? thank uuuuuu

So I don’t even know what to call this, but I just wanna tell you guys what’s happening and how it’s killing me right now . I was with this guy and he always seemed really nice but I always had a feeling. When I checked his phone, I saw what I already felt. When I confronted him about it, and made things worse and made me resent him as he told me he didn’t want to change and I kept things going. Why can’t I leave people who lie and use me? It still amazes me that they are this way you could never see them lying and it’s only going to get worse if it’s this bad now. I wish he would change but I’m hurting. He left. I figured we’d have some space and some thing is still holding on inside me but I know it would never be the same. These past few days I had another weird hunch. And I texted this girl. She seemed pretty nice but told me that he asked her to dinner or some thing and don’t know if I can trust her because she’s texting him? Not that I should care and I should leave her alone. Hoz are going to be hoz. I wish I could’ve left a long time ago when I was saying is coming, but I just kept hoping. Waiting. Forgiving. I feel insane. Like I really don’t wanna be in a relationship ever again. And I’m pissed that he’s talking to other people. It’s not like he just left. But he has all my pics and doesn’t wanna block me. He collects these girls like his magic cards. He had come over for sex less than a week ago knows how I feel and went on talking w/o telling me anything? I know we’re not together but he left months ago and switches up in a day it messes w me. Can’t handle just being used til he’s in his next relationship. That’s kinda probably what happened to me he’s just on to the next 😤

Hello! I am kittylover69! I have been working on 2 projects as of, march 3rd called yuga! Yuga is a level 6 executor and will be paid and free! well somewhat lmao. We will be having 2 branches of the project, A Infinite yield exploit, and the main exploit.
YugaX as of now will cost 5.99 USD a week ( cheaper then Krampus! )
YugaX is open to staff applications at this moment please join! and fill out one!
Yugafree! , The name will probably be changed in the near future but it will be a level 1 infinite yield executor that will just be an addition to our software to check it out!
Don't expect this to be a quick release! I am the only developer!
(btw for some people our server is CAT FRIENDLY )
okay luv yall heres the server invite if you would like to contribute to our build up! https://discord.gg/Yt7vBCkDNW
( DISCLAImER WE DO NOT EXPECT TO BE RELEASING YUGAFREE UNTIL 05/29/24 ) thanks 🥰💘
please upvote!

I'm a first-year apprentice who did 10 months at an exterior panel company and I quite liked the work. As work on the building wrapped up, I was laid off and so I called my BA to get me more work. He found me a spot at a concrete company and I worked 2 weeks and 3 days before being laid off for "talking back" to my foreman.
Before I detail those interactions, I want to state that I understand that foremen are not here to baby me or be my friend. I get that. The two bosses I had at the panel company seemed like they were always in a bad mood and only capable of shouting aggressively to get a point across. I took it as par for the course and just tried to learn as much as I could and try to be an asset not a liability to the crew.
That said, this concrete foreman had a habit of yelling nasty things and calling people "dipshit motherfucker" and "ignorant fuck" all day long. At the panel company, the bosses would ruthlessly attack what you did and how fast/slow you did it, but they almost never attacked the carpenter. So this was new to me. And mr. concrete didn't say these things in a ball-busting way. I have 3 older brothers and uncles in the trades. I know what ball-busting is. I also heard from pretty much all the laborers and a handful of the carpenters that the foreman was a terror. Only 2-3 of the carpenters said "ha, you get used to it, he's a great guy, really."
On the first occasion where I talked back, the foreman gave improper directions, scolded me when I responded to those, and then I aggressively yelled that his initial instructions were wrong and I was just doing what he said. The second and last time I yelled and cursed back was when he gave vague instructions and scolded me when I didn't immediately do exactly what he wanted. So I did what I understood from his instructions and then asked what the fuck he wanted next. (All of this was him on the ground and me alone on a boom lift btw.) After we stripped the column with the crane, I came down and he said
Him: "You know, you can't talk back to me. That's not how this works." Me: "When you talk to people like they're dogs, are you really surprised when some of them talk back?" Him: "Yes. How hard is it to understand instructions the first time they're given? (silence) That's a question, you got an answer?" Me: "No." Him: "So you want me to give your check? Cuz I don't give a shit." Me: "It's up to you."
I meant that last line to mean, "either talk to me like a human or fire me. It's one or the other." Sure enough, he gave me my paycheck for the week an hour before EOD and I left.
Am I to expect that foremen want to work with spineless pushovers who just take verbal abuse all day? "That's not how this works" to me sounds like "I, the mighty foreman, am supposed to have all the power and you're supposed to bend over and take it." I don't like that shit. Is this going to get me fired a lot?
Could I have handled this better?
Am I an asshole who's trying to make waves and prove a point? Or a naive idealist who believes that apprentices should be spoken to like human beings?

Hello, welcome to London!

Visiting us? Moving to study or work? Brief layover? Moving to a new part of London? Any small questions about life here, if you're new or been here your whole life, this is the place!
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Your first port of call should be

the london wiki

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I (M19), and my mother (F56) have a pretty strained relationship, it feels closer to a roommate situation than a parent/child relationship as such I don't really talk to her about anything I'm going threw. She is also rather verbally abusive calling me pathetic and other names in fits of rage and saying I should forgive her because she's stressed about life and work. Recently her phone has been on the Fritz and has been using my phone recently for calling her fiance and friends. I am gay, I've known for a couple years now, I feel no romantic attraction but I feel sexual attraction to guys, so I've downloaded apps as one does and talked to dirty to a few guys, I've only met in person with two and we mess around with each other, no sex. Also I feel I should mention these guys are older, mid 20's to early 30's, ik not super great but I'm an adult and it's what I'm attracted too. As my mother was hanging up with her fiance she says she 'saw' a message from a guy. I doubt this cause I have notifications turned off cause they annoy me. She sat me down and told me what she found and how she was worried about. At this point I was uncomfortable and a bit annoyed I had never planned to come out to her, I never planed too. She then turned it into a whole talking down too, here's some of what she said. " You can't expect me to support you if your not honest." " People on free datings apps with us you and have no ambition. " " Queer isn't an umbrella term because two people she works with use queer to mean there bi. " After this lovely conversation I tried to retreat to my room as I was really uncomfortable. She then said what I want out of life as I was leaving, truthfully I didn't know what I wanted, I'm in college with a job and often spend a lot of time in my room, drawing and making games, but that doesn't mean I don't walk the park nearby or go out for errands, she made it sound like I'm a shutin. After saying I had nothing to say, I retreated to my room. She later came to show me some LGBT groups and such nearby that support you, on the one hand it's nice she cares but on the other I just wanted to be alone, when I told her as such she stomped off. It's now the next day and she's still talking about these groups and how she loves me. My older sister who is the only family member I came out too is supporting me and says she's sorry, and my friends are in the same boat. However one of them said I'm the asshole, because it's clear my mother is concerned. I get it, but I wasn't ready to come out, I never wanted to tell her and it's not her business whom I mess around with, I feel like she violated my privacy. So reddit AITA for still being mad at my mother for snooping on my phone?

Timestamp: https://i.imgur.com/Tb4hefS
All Pics: https://imgur.com/a/WBPU4kw
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Call dibs here, then drop me a message! Thanks.

Well.. this is it. Today was our final gotcha day. He tried to trick the app so he could watch a sad TikTok boob compilation video. It’s stress relief. Aw poor baby, I was trying to keep that from him?? AWFUL and SHAMEFUL of me. I asked what had you sis tressed while I was asleep next to you? You don’t stress about applications for jobs, or calling on applications. Don’t stress about taking showers or brushing your teeth.. you’re so stressed having someone play mommy for you? Your life sucks. Wahhh my gf wanted to be intimate w me but I wanna wait and watch porn. Booohooo if my gf wakes up she might want to have sex w me or fool around but I wanna watch porn.
Little fucking prick ass baby man child. I’m fucking done.
5 months ago I gave him the option; I don’t like the way he uses porn, so he can keep it and we’ll be friends and roommates or he can leave it and continue this relationship. We know what he chose. And we know what he did.
We just had a convo yesterday, perhaps the day before, where it was on his turf what happened to this relationship. He chose this morning when he chose those videos.
I am angry, I am hurt, I hate myself and idk why anyone would want to be with me. I despise him. I told him I hated him, and I didn’t want to be friends again. He should’ve told me a year ago that porn was to important to give up for a relationship.