#poor time management

[starlightnightworld]

Traveling today and you know what? When I get home I have shit to do but… I think I am probably gonna sit down and rewatch some OUAT instead… it’s been a few months… might as well set myself up for failure this week…..

[queenfishiethemagnificent]

life could be dream (if I would get up and go to bed)

[meaganvondoom]

When you realize you are out of focaccia at 830pm and have to make more. 3 hours worth of stretching and folding incoming

[quibble-auk]

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

Horns and razors comic

Part two is done

Prevoius

Next

Originally it was longer but I shortened it cause that was a lot of work.

Anyway…. Why’s Sunrazor in the pits you ask?

So yeah…

In a less serious tone… she was dropped… oops.

[fandomofone]

I feel like I need to join the sadrien server just so I can understand the broccoli thing . Joke? But then that would be another server to keep up with

[mattsmemes]

[fuck-customers]

My old job had poor time management. So one day they forgot to give me a 10 min break ahead of time so they gave it to me 10 minutes before I got to clock out of my shift. I literally had to wait 10 minutes in the staff room before clocking out lmao. The manager clocking me out took me outside the door and said, “We don’t give people a 10 before they clock out.” I was like ??? Okay??? Then she asked, “Would you like to stay for another hour?” I said no ✨😌✨

[arrowflier]

No Leniency for Lateness

Glancing at his watch for the third time in five minutes, Ian sighed.  If this client was much later, they wouldn’t make their next pickup.  They had already waiting too long already; the meet had been scheduled for two, and it was almost half past.  It was their own fault they had gotten there a little early--Ian always liked to make a good impression on new clients--but after 45 minutes of waiting his patience was wearing thin.

Tap, tap, tap, went his foot on the tiled floor as he twisted his head to peer down the long hallway.  He was practically vibrating in his boots with frustration and anxiety.

But mostly frustration.

Tap, tap, ta--

His foot was stilled by a sudden weight, and he looked down to see Mickey’s boot covering the toes of his own.  When he raised his eyes again, Mickey was watching him.

“Stop that shit,” he said brusquely.  “It’ll take as long as it takes.”

“We have a schedule, Mick,” Ian said forcefully.  “We can’t just throw it out the window for one pickup.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, and grabbed Ian’s wrist when he went to check his watch again.  “Calm your tits, man, jesus.  It’s not that big a deal.”

Ian glared until Mickey let go, his hand skating up Ian’s arm to grip at the space between his shoulder and neck instead.  

“It’ll be fine, Ian,” he said, softer.  “Just give ‘em a few more minutes, and we’ll go.”  He squeezed.  “Promise.”

Ian deflated, leaning into the touch.

“Yeah, listen to your partner, mate,” came an unfamiliar voice, and he tensed again immediately.

Mickey dropped his hand as they both turned to see a man moving slowly down the hall, carrying a worn duffel.

“I’d apologize for being late,” the newcomer started, “but I don’t really give a shit, so...”

He tossed the bag at their feet and stood with one hip cocked, hands in pockets.  Ian rolled his eyes and bent to grab it up, looping the short handle over his shoulder so the bag lay across his back.

“You gonna be on time when we come back with the cash?” he asked, and the man chuckled.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about it, sunshine,” he drawled, and turned his eyes to Mickey.  “He always this neurotic?”

Ian raised his eyes to the ceiling as Mickey stilled beside him, knowing what was coming.

“The fuck did you just say?” Mickey questioned, voice quiet but hard.

“What?” the idiot laughed out.  “Your partner’s an impatient little shit, you said it yourself.”

“Mick,” Ian said lowly, reaching out to grab at Mickey’s arm.  “Mick, c’mon, let’s just go.”

Mickey shrugged him off, taking a threatening step forward.  “Nah,” he threw out casually.  “Can’t go just yet.”  One finger came up to scratch at his eyebrow, flashing an inked K.  “Haven’t taken out the fuckin’ trash yet.”

Quick as a wink, he had kneed the stranger in the gut, using the momentum to bring his hands behind the man’s head and shove him down to the sticky floor.

Leaning over him, he grabbed the back of the man’s shirt, forcing him up just enough to look in the eye.

“On the other hand,” he mused as he stared the man down, “my partner is in a bit of a hurry.”  He raised his eyebrows.  “Maybe, if the trash promises never to insult him again, I’ll let it take itself out.”

“Sure, fuck, man,” the stranger wheezed.  “Whatever.”

Mickey looked up to Ian, who nodded, then let him go.  “Well alright then,” he announced, brushing his hands together.  “Looks like we’ll be on our way.”

Ian joined him as he moved back to the building entrance, a half step behind him.  Mickey held the door for him, and as he brushed passed, he murmured, “Really, Mick?”

The other man shrugged as they emerged into the bright afternoon sunlight.  “What?” he asked.  “Guy was an asshole.”

Ian sighed.  “He was,” he agreed, “but he was also a client.  We need clients, Mick,” he stressed.

Mickey scoffed.  “He was delivery boy, Gallagher, he’s not important.  Just call up that lady you talked to, tell her to send somebody else next time.”

“We can’t be that picky,” Ian tried to explain, but Mickey wasn’t having it.  He came to a stop outside the ambulance, and turned to look Ian in the eye.

“This is a drug business, Ian,” he said.  “It may be legal, but it’s still the same business.  Trust me, they’ll respect us a hell of a lot more if we call ‘em on their shit.”

“And if they decide we’re not worth it?” Ian asked.  “You’re the one that almost got killed on runs as a kid; if it’s the same business, what happens then?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and took a step closer, one hand rising to play with the neck of Ian’s camo shirt.  “’That’s were the legal part comes in, idiot.”  His fingers brushed the skin of Ian’s neck, and he held back a shiver.  

“But if it bothers you that much, we’ll back off this one,” Mickey offered.  “Find another client.”

After a quiet moment, Ian shook his head.  “No,” he decided.  “I trust you.  I’ll call her.”

“Yeah?” Mickey asked, grinning.  “Good.”

Ian leaned in for a kiss, but Mickey was gone, rounding the ambulance to open the door on his side.

“Chop chop, Gallagher,” he called back.  “Thought we were keeping a schedule here?”

Smiling, Ian hopped in and slammed the door.  They were running a little late, but maybe they’d have time for a pitstop after the next pickup.