i’m really scared of one of the locations in animal crossing pocket camp. i avoid ok motors at all costs. the few times i’ve had to go there, my body tenses. i get nervous. the penguin mechanics—the peak of machismo culture in the animal crossing universe—their eyes follow you when you walk around the little garage. i get scared of the mechanic penguins, zoom out of the map as fast as my internet connection allows. i don’t like the way they look at me.
i am a fairweather animal crossing player. i downloaded the app whatever year the switch and new horizons came out. i didn’t have money for either, but i wanted to feel included. pocket camp is close enough. i play the seasonal games, collect apples and cherries, go fishing at lost lure creek, play blather’s treasure trek. i’ll play for like, a week and then not open the app again for months. i’m not a gamer! i just think the little animals are cute. since becoming gainfully employed in 2023, i have taken up a bad habit of spending real human dollars on leaf tickets. i use the leaf tickets so i can buy fortune cookies and get things like blossoming sakura trees, adorable little overalls, a pink greenhouse, or a study room with little digital tomato plants growing on top. this is what being gainfully employed gets you: the ability to shop. you can just shop. that’s the trade off for your time, energy, your health, your youth, your wild and precious life. in exchange, commerce is yours. last saturday, i spent 15 human dollars on leaf tickets. my great and wonderful life!
spending $100 at target every once in a while has become my consolation. this is what i get in exchange for living a life that makes me nervous and panicked while playing a cartoon game that has masculine penguins in it. i can buy shoes when i want, eat at the whole foods hot bar for lunch. in this past year, i have been groped at my job, had a man masturbate in front of me. men who are townies—have lived and frequented the library for years—feel insulated enough to ask me loudly and publicly if i used to be a stripper. they make comments about my body to other people on my staff. i had to beg my employer for a security guard and the man they hired went on to tell me about his time as a paramedic. on our first meeting, he described every single instance of a man coming to the ER with a horrible object lodged up his ass. he described the jaundice, the glass breaking. he told me about a woman who fucked her dog and got stuck. he knew what he was doing because he paused to say “you’re gonna be put off your dinner after this.” then he told me about decapitations, holding a human heart. holes like craters in bodies. when i told my employer he said, “you are a magnet for crazy.”
i don’t think this is an appropriate assessment. i don’t think i’m a magnet for crazy. i think work is unsafe. and i think i’m all done with it. i think i’m going to retire from being employed. i am put off by what has happened since i was first employed ten years ago (i won’t pretend like i worked younger than that. you ever meet someone and you talk about jobs in your teen years and they’re seething, absolutely foaming at the mouth to tell you they got their first job at 14 and you know they’re only chomping at the bit to announce it because they’re really fucking jaded about it. they find out someone started working at 16 and they’re like pfftttt. 16? i was already contributing to my 401k by 16. like ooooookay my man). i don’t think my body can bear it. i’m scared of a video game. what’s next?