Back in '86 I went to Branson and got hocked up with a post office job by a guy named Collard. I met him a a bar and he brought me in, but got fired two weeks later for being a drunk.
So I was new in town and green at the job. Most the guys who had their shit together just stared down the manager. I tried the same but I was a vagina on legs so it didn't work too well. I had to learn how to be a man and work my shift.
The quickest way to accomplish that was to come to work smoking a cigarette and put the cig out on another guy's face. Then if anyone else tries to jump in I pull my small waist knife and cut my palm. I do little damage to myself but show the bullshitters that I'm not Ray Liotta'ing shit everywhere, and the attacker escapes singing sad sad songs. Fool proof plane. As long as no one is serious.
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