Throughout the week I had begun getting used to the routine at work. My hands had their own sort of muscle memory now, and the burns from the soldering iron had scabbed over and healed up and grown tough. They weren’t as sensitive as before. While it used to take me several minutes to finish each one, I could finish soldering a white band in less than a minute.
This is not to say that my situation at work had improved. I was still bullied pretty routinely. Similarly, Mars would spend at least ten minutes every day to talk me down. Continue reading