The stupid suit felt like it weighed 50 pounds, made her sweat like she’s at the gym and the feathers tickled her nose.
Between that and pictures with toddlers and sneers from the adolescents, this job was becoming unbearable.
“Remember Kat,” she’d tell herself, “A job’s a job and it pays the bills.”
But today, in the 90 degree heat, the 3 birthday parties and the stick up the boss’s ass, she started to question how bad she really needed this job.
And when the 8-year-old snuck up behind her and pulled on her tail, nearly knocking her over, it was too much; Kat tore off her chicken head, threw it at her boss’s feet and walked out the door, leaving floating feathers in her wake.