At school. I’ve observed that most children are unwashed and talk excessively. It’s like teaching a class full of town drunks. Same erratic body language and volcanic fluid discharges. This boy threw up milk the other day. It came out of every hole in his face. At least drunks eventually pass out. With classes of children a fresh wave spawns every fifty minutes.
I need security. Asian children like to touch you like you’re the Pope. At least, mercifully, the full-size Koreans don’t give a shit about my existence or humanity and therefore don’t bother me. They know I’m just an android they shipped over here who can conjugate shit in real-time. With the kids it’s the opposite; they rush up to run their fingers through my arm hair or hitch a ride on my thighs. I’ve taken to loading up my pockets with butterscotch candies. I throw them down the hall to redirect the herd. Chum to the sharks.
So class is very loud and so is the office. Essentially you’re moving from chaos to chaos. Like different sleep-deprivation chambers at Guantanamo. You have to get a doctor-recommended amount of nightly rest or this shit will break you. I had to optimize. Spend a prohibitive sum on noise-cancelling headphones. Cut out alcohol or caffeine after four p.m. and go full Mormon until lights out at 10:30. Wake up without an alarm at 6:45 and with all the rest I feel like I’m on some great new drug. Which sucks. I waste this chipper high on eight hours of banshee management before dragging ass back to the villa. A job well done but who gives a shit. All this means is that I’ve evolved into an efficient worker bot. I have become Korean. Right down to the junk. My scrotum is smothered and I keep getting caught adjusting. That’s what I get for buying my boxer briefs local.