Getting Away With It

My check was short! Once again its missing hours, the hours they paid me for are at a lower rate then what I agreed to work for. I called the federal, state, and local labor boards all to no benefit to me. It seems that they were more concerned with protecting my employer's right to cheat me, than protecting my rights. The past two weeks I have worked a combined 36 hours of overtime some of which includes shifts that I had worked on Veterans Day and Thanksgiving. I was only given credit for only 12 hours overtime and no holiday pay was included on my check. I'm classified with this company as a flex officer, so my standard rate of pay is $12.00 an hour. 36 of the hours I was credited for were at the rate of $10.05 an hour and the 12 overtime hours were paid at $15.08. The regular rate should be 12 and the overtime should be 18. I'm short at least $200.00. To be exact they owe another $252.00, so they really to get that squared away all nicely if they know what's good for them.
There's many other things I could be doing with my time besides guarding over the good people Highland General Hospital, especially if I'm not getting paid correctly. Later today I'm heading over to the branch office. I was inform that they are expecting me, so that gives me reason to be encouraged that they are willing to make good and give me my papers. I'll continue this tomorrow and let you all know how everything plays out, so till then God Bless you!

Hold My Piece

As I progress forward to my destination most things that are in front of me direct themselves out of my way. The bronze-copper skinned ones do it, to some extent, but the pale-pinkish ones do it almost in every instance. Acting as if they are afraid of me. Move out the way quicker than quick as if touching me is like coming in contact with living toxic waste. Avoiding the slightest eye contact because the poison of my being would shoot into their sockets, encapsulate and dissolve their brain away. Hearts skip a beat when I suddenly just appear before them, their lives pass them by in a flash, them expecting a swift death from this cold blooded killer.

Part of me wants to lash out and dish them a heavy portion of the destruction that they believe I have within me, but I don't want to give them the satisfaction of finding justification in painting a gruesome image of my being. Head busting is not a favorite pastime of mine. Its something I get involved with only when there is no other way to go. I don't get off on violence, but if they're bringing a fight to me I've got to get down. The shade of my skin does not determine how prone to throwing hands, but ruff situations brings out the warrior in me. A brother got to be ready go at with those cowards who look at me out the side of their eyes, waiting to jump on me as soon as I let my guard down. I stay on red alert, while appearing as peaceful as a lamb.