Of course not.

“Mister Rangerson. Here we are again.” I dared not to look at the raven haired businesswoman staring with disdain at me. “If we only take today you’ve been slacking on the job, ignored direct orders from Veronica, dropped a couple of plates, and, oh yes! Tired to kill Miss Becka Robinson! Will you again claim that she was hitting you and humiliating you? Oh! Maybe it’s also not you who are neglecting your duties, but Miss Lucy Barrens?!”

I gritted my teeth, closed my fists so tight my knuckles went white, looked down at the floor to hide my glare away from Stella, and managed to squeeze out of myself the words that will definitely get me in trouble: “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m claiming. You can just check the-”

“I don’t need to check the cameras, Mister Rangerson. As I told you before: there is nothing they can show me that I don't know already. Week after week I get more and more problems with this restaurant. You know what is the only thing that connects them all? You, Gref!” The manager let out a heavy sigh. “I _understand _that it’s hard for you to work in an otherwise all female environment. But you need to realize that this is simply your toxic masculinity! And _deal _with it without _lashing out _at other people!”

She sighed again as I thought ‘That’s not what “toxic masculinity” is!’ But her next words almost gave me a heart attack: “I’m afraid if this won’t change I’m going to have to let you go.”

“But… But I need this job!” And no one else was willing to hire me, I didn’t say.

“Good. Let it be a _motivation _for a greater change.” Stella said without even a hint of understanding of how ridiculous she sounds. “I’ll give you 3 weeks, until the 1st. On the 1st I’ll ask your co-workers if they are willing to keep working with you. And if any one of them says “no”...”

“I… I understand.” I said as tears began to pool in my eyes. “I’ll… try.”

“Do, Mister Rangerson. A _try _is not good enough.”

The rest of my shift went slightly better. Becka would glare at me from a safe distance, something we both needed. Veronica glared at me when she could and kept snapping her fingers at me. And patrons gave me roughly $3 worth of tips.

I came home and dropped face first into my bed, screaming into the pillow out of frustration. Guess this would be a good time to start looking for another job, except I was already doing so ever since I learned what I had to deal with. I had no degree for anything high paying. I had no connections for anything cushy (like a fashion magazine writer position or something). And while I would be able to do a fair job as a code monkey, I had absolutely nothing to prove it. That would only leave other positions in the service industry. But from the way Stella talked I doubt anyone will want me after she’s done with me.

I pulled myself up enough to browse some writers I follow, but as usual there was nothing. I switched to videos, but they quickly lost their appeal. Say hello to my friend Depression. Good thing I kinda know how to deal with it. Not really, but lying to myself helps, I think. Shower passed without me noticing and I plopped my body in front of the computer. Then stared at the light of the screen without seeing what was displayed.

“Fuck.” I spoke to the empty room and roars of engines outside were my answer. I lowered my head to the keyboard. “Fuck. Fuck it.” I repeated and got to work. This isn’t something I can deal with. right? So fuck it! I’ll deal with it when I’m able. But I need to do something. Anything at all.

I started aimlessly moving through things available on my computer. Games? No. Videos? No. Maybe make a video and try to become an influencer? I don’t have the programs, so no. No. No. No. N-

My eyes paused on the icon of my coding editor from the good old days. We were just moving on to coding mobile apps when I left. I launched it and was greeted with a few years worth of updates. Hell, why not? Maybe I’ll make something for the portfolio. The progress bars feel good to stare at too.

Only question is what should I make? Do I actually care? It’s not like I’ll need to sell it, but instead just use it as a showcase that I’m worth a hire. Maybe make something that would be useful to me right now? Okay! What kind of app do I need right now?

“A mind control app that would turn those bitches into obedient sluts.” I snarked. “Ha. Alright, that’s impossible. Let’s think about something else… Anything else… Anything…”

A few hours later I finished my 3rd cup of coffee and sent the “Submission Accelerator” app to compile. Did I just write a real mind control program? Nah. It was basically a glorified counter program. You could add profiles that would have a number. And you had buttons to increase or decrease that number. You could add pictures, names, even 3d models to the profiles. And all changes would be uploaded to the cloud running on my computer because I needed some evidence that I could do net code and databases.

I also wanted to add something like a button that would show a spiral on the screen (to hypnotize people), but the images I got were too low quality to be interesting so I wanted to make a program that would make spirals but ran out of time. It’s 5 AM. I should really go to sleep.

Can test the app in the morning...