pov: you're a camp counselor

How was your Monday? So today, well, I got a fresh batch of summer camp kids. All boys. Round them up. The kind of boys who are telling me that they are allergic to pink and they hate girls. Well, what do I look like to you, friend? A girl. That's right. That's right. Got another kid telling me that he's sick of me. Had him three weeks in a row and all of the after school program. He's sick of me. I'm sick of your pink allergy, friend. Get with the program, man. Loves all my male coworkers though, of course. Yeah. Really showing your character there, buddy. Got another kid telling me, why aren't you married yet? And you're not married yet? Well, I'm too young to be married, friend, and I don't want to be yet. But you're 50. Blows the ego at 10 AM. Goodness gracious. Got my fingernails all dirty, my legs covered in muck from pulling camel colored Crocs, pulling them out of the muck like you're pulling them out of your ears. It's ridiculous. How do kids lose their Crocs? I don't understand. Why can't they stay on their feet? What the heck is that? Goodness gracious. Oh my gosh. Got another kid telling me that he's got a hickie. A hickie? I go, friend, do we know what that is? Yeah, it's when I suck my skin so hard it turns pink. Spot on, friend. Where'd you learn that? My mama taught me. Right. Right.