2004-02-01 - 10:05 p.m.
My eyes are bleeding. They feel like it anywas. I'm exhausted. So exhausted I couldn't eat anything all day. Sketchy job is sooooo sketchy but it was either that or selling drugs. I'll stick to the sketch. I want to be a florist. I'd be so good at being sensitive to sypmathy sprays and such. Today I filled an order for a man who wanted to send his wife flowers every day he was gone for his business trip. So romantical. I also helped a lady from the states send some flowers to the very same funeral home in Ontario where my bubba's was. My dad's best friend had stargazers there for me. The lady didn't have any idea what kinds of flowers to send and if it was ok to send flowers with color. I told her about bubba's funeral and how we do indeed bring the flowers home with us. I sat for hours looking and smelling them all. She told me I was the best customer service she's ever had. I just I trusted that the website I work for had competant people to make sure everything gets done properly. They just don't care. That's what I hate about it. It's all about the money. I know what I want to do. Finally.
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