There was no warmth on the street during the day. During the week people knew, because if I was walking the streets dressed so slack, and only the jobless walk dressed like that.

Though technically I wasn’t without a job, for I had a zero hour contract at the local soap warehouse which manufactured the packaging for the soap sent in rather than the soap itself. Confusing, I know.

On my days off, which there were many, I would typically sit inside and maybe watch slice of life anime. There wasn’t much else to do, for I feared outside, and any company was at work. The streets would judge me I would often thing while sitting amongst my hard tissues.

But I couldn’t take it anymore and marched on into town, off to the warehouse that I worked. I had to face the jobless and be one with them, and anything I said they’d just roll their eyes and go ‘OK’. Well, that’s what I imagine if I ever opened my mouth in public.

I got to the factory and asked for work, but they just shrugged and tried to get the cleaner to escort me out of the premises. He didn’t have a zero hour contract, he worked five mornings a week with thirty days holiday a year. I pleaded for them to check the files as the cleaner mopped my face, and then after some file checking, they suddenly seemed keen to keep me in.

They told me I owed them money, but not time, due to a clause in the contract that allows for their zero hour contracts to turn into negative hour! I leapt up from the floor in fury, but they thrust the contract I signed into my face.

And as I read it my face turned white, for I believe they were right. The new rules by the government state that those with zero hour contracts, the hours can go either way. And when I looked to the wall I saw a dart board, with negatives and pluses to determine who works when.

It made sense, I suppose.


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