Sunday, January 9, 2011

Some call it retail, I call it purgatory.

My New Years resolution, aside from being mistaken for Angelina Jolie (it happened once already, don't be jealous bitches), is to blog every week if I can help it. So here I am, on January 9th, still keeping it. I'd call it a good start to the year. Of course we can't ring in the New Year (my other post was technically written in December just not published then, so I can still say that) without a new post.

I told you I nanny, which is true, but in order to make ends meet, I also work in the fabulous world that is retail. Okay that last statement is false, because it's not fabulous in real life. I love people and customer service, but retail is just stupid. Your manager's act like you are curing cancer instead of selling clothes, if you don't sell credit cards you suck at life, and if you do sell cards then you're the manager's best friend, and your fellow sales associates only look at you as competition to be annihilated. If something isn't on sale, then customers chew you out like YOU are personally trying to ruin their lives AND steal food from their children's hungry stomachs. The guy you saw on America's Most Wanted creeps into the store and undress's you with his eyes, and you still have to help him for an hour. Best of all, some woman demands for your help and you end up being her personal shopper, all the while being patronized and talked down to like she's in a whole 'nother class than you are. All for minimum wage. Goody.

It's not always that bad, but those are the kind of common occurrences that make you hate your job, and in some people's cases, make you bitter. This time of year it's like the plague of every human disease possible to man, being spread around to every person repeatedly. One night, dreading the fact that I would have to work the next morning, a genius idea occurred to me. I would call in sick! Oh my gosh, genius! Why hadn't I thought of it before? I immediately called the store, relating my story about the stomach flu, blah blah, throwing up all evening, blah blah. They seemed to buy it and said they would look for a replacement for my shift and call me back in a bit. I felt kind of jittery, and maybe a little bit guilt ridden, but I tried to shake it off, looking forward to not having to face my dead end job the next day. They didn't call that night, so I assumed they would call me the next morning, before I was actually supposed to be there. I clicked off my bed-side lamp, and turned in for a night of restless sleep and stress dreams.

The next morning, still no call. I had to be in at nine and that time was rapidly approaching. I tried to call, but no one answered and I don't have anyone's person cell numbers. Gosh dammit, what was I going to do?! I couldn't just not go in right? So I went, hoping there had been some misunderstanding, ("Oh my gosh, didn't Frank call you? I totally thought he had! You poor thing, go home and get some rest.") and that I would just be sent home to drink in the freedom. When I did get there the first thing I had found out was that they hadn't planned on me coming in, and the second was that they have zero sympathy for sick workers, so since I had shown up, I was going to have to work. Great. Now I would have to act sick enough that they would believe me, but nice enough that I wouldn't get fired. I did, or at least tried, but acting has never been my strong suit, so the whole day I was paranoid they knew, and miserable with guilt/still hoping I'd get sent home early.

I didn't. I did however, end up having a terrible migraine and some stomach cramps, probably just psychosomatic, but bad all the same. I was blatantly dishonest, said I was sick when I wasn't, and I paid for it by still having to work. My friends got a good laugh out of it, but it had been a terrible day and the bad part was, I totally deserved it. I have since put in my two weeks and am looking forward to the day I walk out and don't look back, knowing I'm rid of the place. I will definitely think twice before trying to lie my way out of a situation. It always comes back to bite you in the rear.


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