Sprouts: Field Report of the Pressed
They call it scheduling. I call it pressure art.
One week I get 28 hours. Next week I get 24. Same hands. Same work. Same precision. Different puppet master behind the curtain.
See, Sprouts has a petty pocket of power — a Dill Weed 2.0. One who thinks pulling hours is how you humble a worker who doesn’t bend. They don’t realize humility isn’t the lesson. Discipline is. And I already learned that one from factories, furnaces, and father figures who didn’t flinch.
JP, the store manager? He’s solid. He sees. He’s the calm above the noise, and he trusts his department heads too much. Problem is, one of them’s using that leash like a rope around the wrong neck.
So I clock it. I don’t yell. I don’t fold. I document.
Because this isn’t a fight — it’s a case study. Every petty move gets recorded. Every dropped hour becomes data. You can’t humble what already learned to kneel only for God.
Sprouts, right now, is just another cycle — pressure, test, doctrine. They press me. I adapt. They expect me to break. I sharpen instead.
I’m not quitting cold. I’ll line up my 40-hour future, then walk out calm. No crown. No speech. No scene. Just sand — kicked smooth behind me.
Because I don’t chase thrones. I leave footprints.
#gremlinrisitas #deptofpettyaffairs #sproutssaga #bearblog #theglitch