JOHN O' CONNOR THE BILLIONAIRE TECH GENIUS.

—---

John O'Connor woke up with a sense of dread, his old bed creaking in protest as he sat up. The sound of heavy rain pounding against the roof was a stark reminder of the miserable day ahead. He grumbled to himself, noticing raindrops leaking through the roof, and lay back down, thinking about the long day of work ahead. Three jobs, all in this terrible weather.

"Ugh, why me?" John muttered to himself, throwing off the covers.

As the rain finally began to clear, John got out of bed and prepared for the day. On his way out the door, his eyes landed on a picture frame - the last photo of him and his ex-girlfriend. He kicked it to the floor, feeling a surge of annoyance.

"Stupid memories," John growled, shaking his head. "Why do I still have this? She's gone, and I'm still stuck in this miserable life."

He took a deep breath and tried to shake off the lingering emotions. He couldn't afford to be late for his first job, working as a waiter at a popular restaurant.

As he arrived at the restaurant, his manager, Mr. Thompson, greeted him with a stern expression.

"John, you're running late. Get to work, and don't disappoint me today," his voice firm but concerned.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," John replied, hurrying to put on his apron and get to work.

The day was chaotic, with a constant stream of demanding customers. John did his best to keep up, but it seemed like everything was going wrong. Spilled drinks, forgotten orders, and a never-ending stream of complaints.

—---

Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, a difficult customer stormed in, his face red with anger.

John approached the table, his notepad and pen at the ready. "Welcome, sir! What can I get for you today?"

The man looked up from his phone, his eyes narrowing. "Just a coffee. Black."

John nodded and scribbled down the order. "Coming right up, sir."

He hurried off to prepare the coffee, his mind racing with the demands of the busy restaurant. When he returned with the steaming cup, the man took one sip and scowled.

"This is terrible!" he exclaimed, his voice booming across the restaurant. "You call this coffee? It's weak and lukewarm!"

John's heart sank as the man's insults began to flow. "You're a slowpoke, can't even get an order right! What's wrong with you, kid? You stupid or something?"

John felt a surge of anger, but he bit his tongue, trying to remain professional. "I'm sorry, sir. Let me get you a new cup, right away."

But the man just laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "A new cup? You think that's going to fix it? You're a joke, kid. A complete and utter failure!"

John's face burned with shame as the man's insults continued to rain down. He knew he didn't deserve this kind of treatment, but he couldn't defend himself. He just stood there, taking the abuse, feeling like a small, helpless child.

John picked up the cup and rushed to get another one, his heart racing with anxiety. When he brought it to the man, he took another sip and then hurled the cup at John, barely missing his head.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a waiter!" the man spat, his face red with rage. "You can't even get a simple order right! You're a waste of space!"

The cup shattered on the floor, and the restaurant fell silent, all eyes on the scene unfolding before them. John's face burned with shame and fear, but he still managed to bow his head and apologize.

"I'm so sorry, sir. Please accept my apologies."

The man's face turned purple with anger, but he stormed out of the restaurant, leaving John shaken and humiliated. The other customers looked on in shock, some of them whispering to each other in disbelief.

John's manager, Mr. Thompson, rushed over to the scene, his face stern. "John, what happened?"

John explained the situation, still trying to process the man's vicious behavior.

The manager scolded John, his face red with anger. "You're a jinx, John! You always drive away customers! If you're not happy here, then maybe you should just leave!"

John felt a stinging sensation in his eyes as tears pricked at the corners. "I'm sorry, sir. It's not my fault," he protested, his voice shaking.

The manager's expression turned mocking. "Not your fault? You're always apologizing, John. Maybe it's time to take responsibility for your mistakes. You're a liability to this restaurant!"

John felt a surge of anger, but he bit his tongue, trying to remain professional. "I understand, sir. But please, give me another chance. I'll do better, I promise."

The manager snorted. "Another chance? You've had plenty of chances, John. You're just not cut out for this job. Maybe you should consider a different line of work."

John felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. He knew he couldn't afford to lose this job, but it seemed like everything was conspiring against him. He nodded, feeling humiliated and defeated. "Yes, sir. I understand."

The manager turned away, dismissing John with a wave of his hand. John felt a tear roll down his cheek, but he quickly brushed it away, trying to maintain some dignity. He knew he had to find a way to turn things around, but for now, he just felt like a failure.

—---

After a long and tiring day, John trudged up the stairs to his apartment, his eyes fixed on the door as if willing it to open and swallow him whole. He ignored the other tenants staring at him with disgust, their faces a blur as he passed by. This lousy apartment was all he could afford, and he knew they judged him for it.

As he scrambled for his keys and tried to open the door, his phone suddenly pinged! He froze, his heart sinking as he saw the text message from his landlord: "Final Notice".

John's heart sank as he read the words on his old mobile screen. "No, no, no...this can't be happening," he whispered, feeling like he was drowning in a sea of misfortune, with no lifeline in sight.