I've been invited to another job related party this weekend. My stomach is queasy.
Josh came up to me that other night and said "so, my parents are going away for a week and I'm having a house party. You should come even though I know that you won't but I wanted to ask anyway". It was a sincere attempt to invite me to one of his parties for the nth time this year.
I go back and forth between going and not going. All of my reasons for attending involve being able to relax with my co-workers outside of work. When we aren't complaining about work, we generally like each other. The store manager once told me that our store was not like others, because the employee dynamic is different. It's friendlier. And though I hate my retail job with a passion, I must admit we have an awesome crew. The store has an intimate feeling despite the size of it, and I can name on one hand the people I don't like working with (New Manager. You suck!)
But, I am still sort of antsy. People exhaust the hell out of me, despite how social I appear to be, and parties are a hub of anxiety for me. A hub, even though I like Josh and everyone I work with. We are a bunch of nerds who work in retail who admit our nerd like tendencies, whenever possible.
I mean when we closed the store last night Graphic Novel Artist, Josh and I spent the hour geeking out about movies and books. Graphic Novel guy is amazing. He is crush worthy in every way possible except that he has a wife that he loves and respects. For that reason I can't help but love and respect him.
We get along so well it's scary and we are trying to figure out if we are related in some way. But we have yet to discover any lost connection. Anyway, he told me that he was going to Josh's party just to get out of the house and if I was going. Well, what he actually said was "you seen like a social person. So you're going right?"
Me? Social? Really? I think I'm selectively social. There are some people (him, Angie, Cello Girl) who I connect with instantly. I never second guessed hanging out with them. Our friendships were organic and just felt right. But for the other 95% of the people I interact with it is work, hard work which involves me trying to work my way around my destructive internal dialogue.
I am able, and sometimes willing, to give a good chunk of myself to people that I trust. I open up and I guess I am a social and lively person but doing that is exhausting because people are needy. Not maliciously of course, but just out of habit or worse, human nature.
I mean the other day McAbs ( I know, it's been a while since I mentioned that name) was in a terrible mood. He was stoic and look detached. Months ago I would have sincerely cared, but because I have a million and one things going on in my head I just wasn't in the mood to ask him how he was feeling in regards to my own state. After a couple of hours though, I went over to him and asked if he was all right just out of curiosity.
But he replied curtly "why does it matter? You couldn't fix it anyway". I paused for a moment, and thought of all the things I could say back (some nasty, some sad)but he had a point. I really didn't care what was bothering him, and I couldn't fix it even if I wanted to.
The times that I have asked him what's wrong, he (along with a number of other people) unloads his whole life story on me, as if I am a journal. As if I've secretly said "tell me everything, I can help you". And though I generally care about people, some times to the point where I sacrifice elements of myself, adapting to their personal needs for understanding, love, acceptance, fulfillment often clashes with my own attempt to embrace my own understanding of those thing.
I've discovered that my needs are simple and pure. My definitions of love, acceptance and fulfillment are unique to who I am and when those ideals intersect and corresponds with people, my connections with them are amazing and easy.
When they don't I am a depleted exhausted mess. This makes working in customer service difficult because people associate my kindness for general interest. Yesterday some customer was appalled (appalled) that I didn't tell him to have a good day after a transaction. I was distracted by Graphic Novel guy who came to retrieve something from the cash register. We immediately engaged in small talk in the 1.5 minute it took me to ring the customer up. The customer is a Regular who comes in every day, spends a good 4 hours in the store and then buys something small like a bookmark. He's ultra weird, wears socks with sandals and bothers us relentlessly.
He sort of lingered around after I gave him his change, but by then I was ringing someone else up and telling Graphic Novel Guy that I would visit him in the music department when I got a chance. A few minutes later when the line had died down, the Regular approached the counter again. He tells me, quietly, that it would make him feel better (yes, better) if I thanked him for his visit to our store because he never got a 'thank you' or 'have a nice day' after I gave him his change. No lie.
Outside of this guy being weird, I was sort of offended that he took offense to my...inconsideration. I know that cashier etiquette calls for feigning interest in people (and in the last 24 hours when I've explained this interaction I am told that I was in the wrong) to complete their experience at the store, but some days fake sincerity is worse than death. Especially to people I don't know, and who don't know me outside of the girl with the name tag.
Like a prostitute I incredulously thanked him for his business (because who the hell comes back) to which he replied 'thank you. I just wanted a more intimate transaction and you were distracted last time".
Intimate Transaction? Is that the bane of our existence, to achieve intimate transactions with people. Maybe it is, but excuse me for being selective towards those I wanted to intimately transact with and those that I don't want to.
The point is, because there is one somewhere, is that a source of my anxiety revolves around this belief that I can not adequately measure up to people's expectations or needs. I mean hell, customers are just customers and despite what he said or what anyone of them say, I am never inclined to be someone else in lieu of good customer service. And maybe I was a little dismissive, as a person he doesn't know all too well I don't see the point (anymore) of acting like intimate friend. I'm sorry but I ain't doing it.
But where I do struggle is in my attempts to balance getting to connecting to those who want to be my friend and vice versa. Who want me to be slightly available in order to connect and be social with.
So I might go. I want to want to go because these are people that I like and I hate turning down their invites so that I can stay home and watch various marathons on TV. But going involves silencing the insane and irrational thoughts I have pertaining my presence there. Where I struggle to understand fully the extent of my needs and others for fulfilling and sincere intimate transactions?
Ugh, that's just a weird ugly phrase, no matter how sweet I try to make it sound.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
When it Rains, It Pours....
The clouds are constipated. It wants to rain so bad, I can tell but alas there is nothing.
It's been too hot these last few days. I can't even really say it's the heat because it's the humidity that is killing it for me. I went to bed last night a hot mess, only to wake up a hot and sweaty mess. Let's just say I am counting down the days until Fall.
The weatherman is reporting a thunderstorm later on tonight, and if the clouds are any indication of the next few hours, then he is spot on. But I still don't see any raindrops, and it is still humid as hell and despite having a day off I spent much of it patiently awaiting this thunderstorm.
The rain helps me think. I find grey clouds comforting. And though thunderstorms include the ever crashing sound of thunder, there is a silence in it that I cannot express. And I am hoping that this thunderstorm will bring with it a cold front, because man my body cannot take it. To curb the heat issue I have been taking epic naps in order to relieve some of the tension in my body. Yeah, the naps mess with my sleep later on in the evening but naps are a luxury I cannot give up.
I find myself dreaming about college a lot. They aren't those "could have, should have, would have ones' like I had...well in college. I have these literal dreams of my time there, specifically of the various English classes I took during my four year stint. Today I dreamed of the European Lit class I took my junior year, with the NotSoHawt but relatively nice Professor. I didn't say too much in his class, but he took notice of me because I would write him emails concerning his lectures. He read one of my emails out to the class and begged me to speak more during class time instead of using an email format.
Anyway, right before my birthday he told me (or more appropriately wrote on an email I had sent him) that I " have a real future in this field: You ask great and imaginative questions". I don't know why this moment (and comment) has been so pivotal to me. Or why I dreamt about it this afternoon. But I was in that room during my nap taking a test I thought I was going to fail, feeling insignificant and small until he called my name and in a way said I was special and important.
There are days when I miss feeling like a person with potential. I mean I know I possess it, but I miss the reinforcement. I miss having someone ( a teacher, a therapist, a friend) to remind me of it. It's the main thing I miss about being in school, that I had this support system of people not only telling me that I was okay but reminding me that I have potential, that I am special.
When I was in grade school I use to have this fantasy that involved me sitting in a full classroom of my peers and having some hot stranger come to the door and ask to see me. I use to see this happen all the time. We'd be in the middle of another Christopher Columbus lecture and there would be a knock at the door. The teacher would look pissed because of the interruption but we were all excited to see who it could be. And then like some vision, some fairly attractive man or woman was there, asking if they could speak with so and so for a moment. So and So would get up from his or her desk and exit from the room like we were filming a scene from a movie where the protagonist is rescued or taken away.
And I always hated that no one ever came to my class to interrupt the teacher to ask for me. I always wanted to be the So and So to get up from my seat, surprised as my classmates were, that I of all people was important enough to warrant a visitor. I dreamt of this fantasy in middle school then high school all the way to college to now. I mean even now when I'm at the bookstore I catch myself wanting to be acknowledge in that same way. For someone to pop up and ask for my name (in a non creepy and annoying customer way) because of my importance and significance to them. Because I am special and unique and full of potential.
Wishful thinking I guess, after all these years. I have work 9-5 tomorrow and i am not feeling getting up to go to work. They are now in the process of hiring some more people to work at the store and I am apprehensive and nervous. New people, new dynamic another indication that I have been there forever.
My drive to write has been an up and down thing. I go from sheer excitement to 'whatever' most days and can't get outside of my head long enough to put anything of significance on paper. It's frustrating and exhausting and I've never felt more like an crazy writer than now. Since the BBC thing I have taken a mental and emotionally break. I haven't wanted to do anything serious, including writing, just for a week. I've just wanted to spend my days waiting for this damn thunderstorm to come and have dreams of once being a person with potential.
It's been too hot these last few days. I can't even really say it's the heat because it's the humidity that is killing it for me. I went to bed last night a hot mess, only to wake up a hot and sweaty mess. Let's just say I am counting down the days until Fall.
The weatherman is reporting a thunderstorm later on tonight, and if the clouds are any indication of the next few hours, then he is spot on. But I still don't see any raindrops, and it is still humid as hell and despite having a day off I spent much of it patiently awaiting this thunderstorm.
The rain helps me think. I find grey clouds comforting. And though thunderstorms include the ever crashing sound of thunder, there is a silence in it that I cannot express. And I am hoping that this thunderstorm will bring with it a cold front, because man my body cannot take it. To curb the heat issue I have been taking epic naps in order to relieve some of the tension in my body. Yeah, the naps mess with my sleep later on in the evening but naps are a luxury I cannot give up.
I find myself dreaming about college a lot. They aren't those "could have, should have, would have ones' like I had...well in college. I have these literal dreams of my time there, specifically of the various English classes I took during my four year stint. Today I dreamed of the European Lit class I took my junior year, with the NotSoHawt but relatively nice Professor. I didn't say too much in his class, but he took notice of me because I would write him emails concerning his lectures. He read one of my emails out to the class and begged me to speak more during class time instead of using an email format.
Anyway, right before my birthday he told me (or more appropriately wrote on an email I had sent him) that I " have a real future in this field: You ask great and imaginative questions". I don't know why this moment (and comment) has been so pivotal to me. Or why I dreamt about it this afternoon. But I was in that room during my nap taking a test I thought I was going to fail, feeling insignificant and small until he called my name and in a way said I was special and important.
There are days when I miss feeling like a person with potential. I mean I know I possess it, but I miss the reinforcement. I miss having someone ( a teacher, a therapist, a friend) to remind me of it. It's the main thing I miss about being in school, that I had this support system of people not only telling me that I was okay but reminding me that I have potential, that I am special.
When I was in grade school I use to have this fantasy that involved me sitting in a full classroom of my peers and having some hot stranger come to the door and ask to see me. I use to see this happen all the time. We'd be in the middle of another Christopher Columbus lecture and there would be a knock at the door. The teacher would look pissed because of the interruption but we were all excited to see who it could be. And then like some vision, some fairly attractive man or woman was there, asking if they could speak with so and so for a moment. So and So would get up from his or her desk and exit from the room like we were filming a scene from a movie where the protagonist is rescued or taken away.
And I always hated that no one ever came to my class to interrupt the teacher to ask for me. I always wanted to be the So and So to get up from my seat, surprised as my classmates were, that I of all people was important enough to warrant a visitor. I dreamt of this fantasy in middle school then high school all the way to college to now. I mean even now when I'm at the bookstore I catch myself wanting to be acknowledge in that same way. For someone to pop up and ask for my name (in a non creepy and annoying customer way) because of my importance and significance to them. Because I am special and unique and full of potential.
Wishful thinking I guess, after all these years. I have work 9-5 tomorrow and i am not feeling getting up to go to work. They are now in the process of hiring some more people to work at the store and I am apprehensive and nervous. New people, new dynamic another indication that I have been there forever.
My drive to write has been an up and down thing. I go from sheer excitement to 'whatever' most days and can't get outside of my head long enough to put anything of significance on paper. It's frustrating and exhausting and I've never felt more like an crazy writer than now. Since the BBC thing I have taken a mental and emotionally break. I haven't wanted to do anything serious, including writing, just for a week. I've just wanted to spend my days waiting for this damn thunderstorm to come and have dreams of once being a person with potential.
Monday, May 24, 2010
I Didn't Mean to Hurt You
I've been taking the BBC America thing well.
Ok. I'm lying. Almost a week later, it still fucking sucks that I didn't get the job. I am watching Dr. Who On Demand right now as I type, and I cannot help feeling extremely pissed that I am not preparing for my first real world job after my first real world job interview.
I don't believe the interview was horrible. I was sort of prepared, kind of charming and I wore a really cute and professional outfit. I could have related my skills more to the position itself rather than making generalities about my awesomeness. You live and you learn.
The fact that I got an interview at all at BBC America for a position I didn't know even know existed, gives me some hope though. Whose to say that if the BBC didn't find my resume a good enough for their company that other networks won't. I mean other networks will not be BBC America of course but all I have these days is optimism and a growing obsession with Matt Smith and the UK.
Since then I have been managing. I still have to get up in the morning and continue with my life, despite how sucky it has been this month. Especially regarding work.
When I say I am dissatisfied with my job at the bookstore, I mean it with every fiber of my body. Even my favorite manager along with my co-workers are experiencing their own 'I hate my life' mood. The honeymoon period is officially over. We are no longer head over heels in love with working together at the store. We don't despise each other by any means. But you know when you've been around someone for too long in the close confines of say a house or a bookstore that the things you love about them can become...annoying, just because. Well that's what happening at the store.
Case in point, I closed last night and it was brutal. No one said much of anything all night and you could sense that we all had things on our minds that had nothing to do with work. There was a weird stillness in the air and despite trying to be an upbeat person I wasn't even in the mood to brighten the day. I too was consumed with my own thoughts and couldn't find the drive to muster happiness for someone else. When we finally closed we collectively ignored each other, cleaned up the store and then parted ways. It was the most bizarre closing ever.
And for some reason it's as if the customers know we all hate our jobs because they have been pulling out the extra crazy lately, as if our internal distressed monologues aren't enough for us to handle. Today the insane Ann Coulter-isque lady decided to grace us with her Obama bashing sentiments. She is a regular at the store. A regular pain-in-the ass woman who only comes in to ask for really right winged books and then rant about America turning into a communist nation. I helped her once, and she got mad at me because a book she wanted wasn't in stock. She accused me, yes I, of being apart of a liberal agenda to rid the store of Conservative books. I immediately got a manager and went on my way.
Today she tried that crap with Virginia, a really elegant retired teacher who works there part time. Virginia wasn't having it and the two started screaming at each other in the store. I watched from afar, afraid/confused/intrigued as Virginia called the lady crazy and the lady shoved a Conservative book at her. When it almost came to blows (I said Virginia was elegant, I might have forgotten feisty and yes, they were pretty close to hair pulling) I called a manager. It was too much for me to watch.
I on the other hand had to deal with the survivalist guy (who thinks we should start preparing for a return to hunter-gathering time) who came in the other day and wanted to talk about this girl who broke his heart. This guy is harmless, he is literally just looking for someone to talk to. And apparently that person is me. For the past year he has come to me to talk about this girl he dated who messed him up....for life. To make a long story short: They work together, they started dating, he payed all her bills, she used him, they broke up, now she is dating another co-worker.
He thinks that she may have a psychological disorder, and every other week he is buying psychology books trying to understand how she could do harm him emotionally. During one of these 'sessions' where he asked for me specifically to help him I mentioned that I suffered from anxiety. I don't know why I did this. He kept talking about disorders as if they made people bad and all I could think was 'hey I have anxiety and I'm not a bad person'. Or maybe I thought telling him would let him know that people are perfect. So yeah, I have a smile on my face at work but it doesn't mean that things are eating me up inside. That I am 100% ok. I just needed him to know that for some reason, so he wouldn't get attached to me as the 'really sweet innocent no problem girl at the bookstore'.
But yesterday, while I was at the cash register covering someones break he stopped in to say hey. He immediately started talking about the girl who broke his heart again and I daydreamed about being taken away by Matt Smith. Then he said "i still can't believe you have anxiety. you hide it well. can you explain what it feels like'. I just sort of shrugged my shoulders and was like 'it's sort of personal i guess"
But he went on to relate my social anxiety to his crazy ex-girlfriends inability to accept love from him. And in a way attempting to tell me that my anxiety can hurt other people. That it can isolate me from those who just want to...I don't know, love me? It was freaking bizarre. One, because this guy himself is suffering some issue that only Freud can deal with but 2), but because I never associated my anxiety as a danger to other people . And even though he is a loony bird it got me thinking, has my anxiety hurt other people?
I mean not in a malicious way. Anxiety is not a deadly rambo-isque friend who I introduce when times get rough, but I couldn't help but think of the people I have isolated because of it. People I've cared/care about who inadvertently have had to deal with my anxiety as much as me. And though the guy who made that point is CRAZY, it was a valid general point. A point I am still struggling to understand and must write about tomorrow. But I didn't need some stranger making that claim. Not at all.
Anyway
I have to get out of the bookstore, I have to get out of this life and I know it must be incredibly boring to read me writing this over and over again, but it even worse having to live it. I've applied to some more jobs and am crossing my fingers that I hear something back. I can only do 3 more months of this before I completely have a breakdown of sorts. I am running out of things to try, and my spirit is faltering. A little.
Tomorrow I have a day off (thank god) and I plan on doing something semi-relaxing. That's the plan at least.
Ok. I'm lying. Almost a week later, it still fucking sucks that I didn't get the job. I am watching Dr. Who On Demand right now as I type, and I cannot help feeling extremely pissed that I am not preparing for my first real world job after my first real world job interview.
I don't believe the interview was horrible. I was sort of prepared, kind of charming and I wore a really cute and professional outfit. I could have related my skills more to the position itself rather than making generalities about my awesomeness. You live and you learn.
The fact that I got an interview at all at BBC America for a position I didn't know even know existed, gives me some hope though. Whose to say that if the BBC didn't find my resume a good enough for their company that other networks won't. I mean other networks will not be BBC America of course but all I have these days is optimism and a growing obsession with Matt Smith and the UK.
Since then I have been managing. I still have to get up in the morning and continue with my life, despite how sucky it has been this month. Especially regarding work.
When I say I am dissatisfied with my job at the bookstore, I mean it with every fiber of my body. Even my favorite manager along with my co-workers are experiencing their own 'I hate my life' mood. The honeymoon period is officially over. We are no longer head over heels in love with working together at the store. We don't despise each other by any means. But you know when you've been around someone for too long in the close confines of say a house or a bookstore that the things you love about them can become...annoying, just because. Well that's what happening at the store.
Case in point, I closed last night and it was brutal. No one said much of anything all night and you could sense that we all had things on our minds that had nothing to do with work. There was a weird stillness in the air and despite trying to be an upbeat person I wasn't even in the mood to brighten the day. I too was consumed with my own thoughts and couldn't find the drive to muster happiness for someone else. When we finally closed we collectively ignored each other, cleaned up the store and then parted ways. It was the most bizarre closing ever.
And for some reason it's as if the customers know we all hate our jobs because they have been pulling out the extra crazy lately, as if our internal distressed monologues aren't enough for us to handle. Today the insane Ann Coulter-isque lady decided to grace us with her Obama bashing sentiments. She is a regular at the store. A regular pain-in-the ass woman who only comes in to ask for really right winged books and then rant about America turning into a communist nation. I helped her once, and she got mad at me because a book she wanted wasn't in stock. She accused me, yes I, of being apart of a liberal agenda to rid the store of Conservative books. I immediately got a manager and went on my way.
Today she tried that crap with Virginia, a really elegant retired teacher who works there part time. Virginia wasn't having it and the two started screaming at each other in the store. I watched from afar, afraid/confused/intrigued as Virginia called the lady crazy and the lady shoved a Conservative book at her. When it almost came to blows (I said Virginia was elegant, I might have forgotten feisty and yes, they were pretty close to hair pulling) I called a manager. It was too much for me to watch.
I on the other hand had to deal with the survivalist guy (who thinks we should start preparing for a return to hunter-gathering time) who came in the other day and wanted to talk about this girl who broke his heart. This guy is harmless, he is literally just looking for someone to talk to. And apparently that person is me. For the past year he has come to me to talk about this girl he dated who messed him up....for life. To make a long story short: They work together, they started dating, he payed all her bills, she used him, they broke up, now she is dating another co-worker.
He thinks that she may have a psychological disorder, and every other week he is buying psychology books trying to understand how she could do harm him emotionally. During one of these 'sessions' where he asked for me specifically to help him I mentioned that I suffered from anxiety. I don't know why I did this. He kept talking about disorders as if they made people bad and all I could think was 'hey I have anxiety and I'm not a bad person'. Or maybe I thought telling him would let him know that people are perfect. So yeah, I have a smile on my face at work but it doesn't mean that things are eating me up inside. That I am 100% ok. I just needed him to know that for some reason, so he wouldn't get attached to me as the 'really sweet innocent no problem girl at the bookstore'.
But yesterday, while I was at the cash register covering someones break he stopped in to say hey. He immediately started talking about the girl who broke his heart again and I daydreamed about being taken away by Matt Smith. Then he said "i still can't believe you have anxiety. you hide it well. can you explain what it feels like'. I just sort of shrugged my shoulders and was like 'it's sort of personal i guess"
But he went on to relate my social anxiety to his crazy ex-girlfriends inability to accept love from him. And in a way attempting to tell me that my anxiety can hurt other people. That it can isolate me from those who just want to...I don't know, love me? It was freaking bizarre. One, because this guy himself is suffering some issue that only Freud can deal with but 2), but because I never associated my anxiety as a danger to other people . And even though he is a loony bird it got me thinking, has my anxiety hurt other people?
I mean not in a malicious way. Anxiety is not a deadly rambo-isque friend who I introduce when times get rough, but I couldn't help but think of the people I have isolated because of it. People I've cared/care about who inadvertently have had to deal with my anxiety as much as me. And though the guy who made that point is CRAZY, it was a valid general point. A point I am still struggling to understand and must write about tomorrow. But I didn't need some stranger making that claim. Not at all.
Anyway
I have to get out of the bookstore, I have to get out of this life and I know it must be incredibly boring to read me writing this over and over again, but it even worse having to live it. I've applied to some more jobs and am crossing my fingers that I hear something back. I can only do 3 more months of this before I completely have a breakdown of sorts. I am running out of things to try, and my spirit is faltering. A little.
Tomorrow I have a day off (thank god) and I plan on doing something semi-relaxing. That's the plan at least.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Why Do I Even Get Up in the Morning
Dear Beckett,
After carefully reviewing the qualifications and background of the candidate pool, we find that we are unable to offer you a position at this time.
Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider you for a position with BBC Worldwide Americas. We wish you the best of luck in your pursuit of employment opportunities.
Regards,
BBC Worldwide Americas
After carefully reviewing the qualifications and background of the candidate pool, we find that we are unable to offer you a position at this time.
Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider you for a position with BBC Worldwide Americas. We wish you the best of luck in your pursuit of employment opportunities.
Regards,
BBC Worldwide Americas
Monday, May 17, 2010
Trimming the Fat.
Unlike 2 weeks where I magically had both Saturday and Sunday off, this weekend I spent the better part of my day at the bookstore. Two 10-6 days. It was brutal.
On any other day I would not complain about a 10-6 work day. Let me correct that. I would not complain as much about said 10-6 workday. But where we once had enough employees to cover the basic functioning needs of the store, we are now a slim crew.
A few people graduated this year and moved back home, some quit and got 'better' jobs, some left because the New Manager is an uber bitch and could drive the devil out of hell if you gave her enough time. And well...some got fired.
A week ago the Awesome Manager came up to me and asked me if I was friends with 'Jessica'. She is the youngest person working their (19) and for the most part I like her. I mean, we never hung out outside of work but we spent several hours on the floor NOT helping customers. Anyway, when I said yes, that I was kind of friends with her he said "oh. well if I tell you something about her you have to promise that you won't tell anyone else. PROMISE'.
This was not an unusual request, this manager has a tendency of telling me things. He is by far every one's favorite because he knows we are all pretty young and do the best that we can at our crap job. He's gotten in trouble with the other managers because they think he treats us more like friends than employees. So when he came up to me, I knew he wanted to tell me some top secret thing that could only be between us (and my journal).
Apparently a week earlier, while another manager was on duty, she got a call from a very popular shopping store located in our building, that an employee from the bookstore was caught shoplifting some cd's. Because most of us shop at the store during our break their staff are familiar with our faces. Hence why they were shocked when she strolled in (on her day off) to shoplift. They wanted a manager to come downstairs and identify the suspected shoplifter on the surveillance tape. That employee turned out to be Jessica, and for that reason the managers had no other choice but to fire her.
I haven't told anyone about what Awesome Manager told me but with one less employee at the store I can't help but notice how small our crew has become. We literally have enough people to cover the cash register and customer service. Everyone looks worn out and over worked at the bookstore and you can feel a change in the air. Soon enough a new crop of people will be hired to make up for the huge dent in our staff. New people bring a new dynamic while diminishing the atmosphere that we've created.
But for some reason this does not worry me. Not like it would have in the past.
I honestly, in my heart, know that this is the time for me to move on from the bookstore. It's as if some window has opened and I want to explore it without even looking back. I hope to hear something about another interview with my current dream network in the next day or two. This whole weekend I have been going over what I said, what I wish I would have said, and other very neurotic things in regards to Thursday. And all I can come back to in my mind is that this is a job I can do because I want to do it. Point Blank.
I am not a huge fan of change. I wish I could have talked about this more in therapy but Anxiety fueled much of my discussions then. Unless I am the one initiating it (change), I am perfectly okay with things remaining the same. I think it has to do with the sense that I never had a homestead. My family always moved just at the point where we were establishing sincere friendships and connections. Because of this I am accustomed to bailing on things (people) when it gets to close.
But what I've failed to realize is that I am changing every day. My wants and needs are so far from what they were two years ago. Where working at the bookstore was an adequate use of my time to pay off loans and get out of the house, it doesn't quite cut it anymore. I confessed to my mom that I sometimes feel bad when I apply to other jobs. And that when I went on the interview I felt like I was cheating on the bookstore. It's ridiculous I know, but that's what I felt. But why should I feel bad for wanting to do something extraordinary. For wanting (needing)to step outside of my comfort level and see what I can accomplish if I just...do it.
I don't know what is going to happen in the next few days. The perfect scenario would involve a second interview and subsequent job offer. I will only think of that scenario. I can only think of that one. But whatever happens, there is a window open. I can feel the breeze from outside luring me to step through the pane. And I will, because I can and I'm ready.
On any other day I would not complain about a 10-6 work day. Let me correct that. I would not complain as much about said 10-6 workday. But where we once had enough employees to cover the basic functioning needs of the store, we are now a slim crew.
A few people graduated this year and moved back home, some quit and got 'better' jobs, some left because the New Manager is an uber bitch and could drive the devil out of hell if you gave her enough time. And well...some got fired.
A week ago the Awesome Manager came up to me and asked me if I was friends with 'Jessica'. She is the youngest person working their (19) and for the most part I like her. I mean, we never hung out outside of work but we spent several hours on the floor NOT helping customers. Anyway, when I said yes, that I was kind of friends with her he said "oh. well if I tell you something about her you have to promise that you won't tell anyone else. PROMISE'.
This was not an unusual request, this manager has a tendency of telling me things. He is by far every one's favorite because he knows we are all pretty young and do the best that we can at our crap job. He's gotten in trouble with the other managers because they think he treats us more like friends than employees. So when he came up to me, I knew he wanted to tell me some top secret thing that could only be between us (and my journal).
Apparently a week earlier, while another manager was on duty, she got a call from a very popular shopping store located in our building, that an employee from the bookstore was caught shoplifting some cd's. Because most of us shop at the store during our break their staff are familiar with our faces. Hence why they were shocked when she strolled in (on her day off) to shoplift. They wanted a manager to come downstairs and identify the suspected shoplifter on the surveillance tape. That employee turned out to be Jessica, and for that reason the managers had no other choice but to fire her.
I haven't told anyone about what Awesome Manager told me but with one less employee at the store I can't help but notice how small our crew has become. We literally have enough people to cover the cash register and customer service. Everyone looks worn out and over worked at the bookstore and you can feel a change in the air. Soon enough a new crop of people will be hired to make up for the huge dent in our staff. New people bring a new dynamic while diminishing the atmosphere that we've created.
But for some reason this does not worry me. Not like it would have in the past.
I honestly, in my heart, know that this is the time for me to move on from the bookstore. It's as if some window has opened and I want to explore it without even looking back. I hope to hear something about another interview with my current dream network in the next day or two. This whole weekend I have been going over what I said, what I wish I would have said, and other very neurotic things in regards to Thursday. And all I can come back to in my mind is that this is a job I can do because I want to do it. Point Blank.
I am not a huge fan of change. I wish I could have talked about this more in therapy but Anxiety fueled much of my discussions then. Unless I am the one initiating it (change), I am perfectly okay with things remaining the same. I think it has to do with the sense that I never had a homestead. My family always moved just at the point where we were establishing sincere friendships and connections. Because of this I am accustomed to bailing on things (people) when it gets to close.
But what I've failed to realize is that I am changing every day. My wants and needs are so far from what they were two years ago. Where working at the bookstore was an adequate use of my time to pay off loans and get out of the house, it doesn't quite cut it anymore. I confessed to my mom that I sometimes feel bad when I apply to other jobs. And that when I went on the interview I felt like I was cheating on the bookstore. It's ridiculous I know, but that's what I felt. But why should I feel bad for wanting to do something extraordinary. For wanting (needing)to step outside of my comfort level and see what I can accomplish if I just...do it.
I don't know what is going to happen in the next few days. The perfect scenario would involve a second interview and subsequent job offer. I will only think of that scenario. I can only think of that one. But whatever happens, there is a window open. I can feel the breeze from outside luring me to step through the pane. And I will, because I can and I'm ready.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Big Girl Worries
On Tuesday I got wind of a very exciting, important, life changing opportunity that falls into the 'job' category of life these days.
Yeah. I wrote it. I was contacted about a potential job at an amazing network. But that's all I'm going to say about it because I don't want to mess this up. I applied some two weeks ago, after researching some things and I spent that weekend debating whether I would be fit for the position. The position has nothing to do with production or writing but I felt it was closer to my dream job than being at the bookstore.
So needless to say I was shocked to open my email two days ago asking for an interview! Less than 48 hours later, I sat in the lobby of said network, eyeing memorabilia and wondering how the hell I got to this point. The email was very short and direct. I would partake in a 15-20 minute interview with a Hiring Manager to see if I was a good enough applicant for a more thorough interview in the future.
I didn't have too long to prepare for this thing. I bought a blouse and a spiffy new beige jacket and a professional looking portfolio to hold my resume in. With only 20 minutes to meet with someone I knew the questions would be more universal "how do you qualify for this job" "tell me about yourself" sort of things but I still wanted to be prepared. I spent all of Wednesday reading interview books at the bookstore and trying to casually rehearse things in my head.
I got to the interview 20 minutes early and was calm and relaxed. I did what I could in the 20 minutes with the Hiring Manager. She asked about my college degree and my internships. I asked about the work environment there and what role the position would play in the company. It was a pleasant and formal meeting. I was enthusiast but not eager and she said I would hear back from her when she made a decision on who would, in all honesty, get to round 2.
I haven't slept that well the last couple of days. This is only the 2nd interview that I've had for a actually job, the first being the editorial assistant gig in bridgeport. One year ago, I was at this same point where a potential job was looking me in the face and all I have to do is...sell myself.
But unlike last year, I am not heading home in a few weeks because my aunt is passively kicking me out of her house. I, for the most part, am here to stay as long as I am able to afford this life here. And unlike last year where I applied to that position just for the hell of it, I actively sought this one out because my skills matched up and I fucking love this network. I had to control my urge to geek out when the elevator doors opened an there was this huge poster of....well, one of my favorite shows EVER (that is not buffy I mean)!
And I'm nervous. And scared. And am sooooo sick of working at the bookstore. And I want this. Badly. I don't think I've ever wanted anything this bad in my whole entire life. And all I can think about is getting that second interview. At being able to come up with answers to the questions that they throw at me so I can blow them away. I know if given the chance I can, but did I convince her of that in the 15 minutes I had. I don't know.
This could change so many things in my life. I will still be stressed out, and slightly lonely, and struggling with anxiety and writing. But I would have a secure, decent paying job at [insert awesome network]. After graduating school two years ago (damn) to move here I would have a full time gig.
It would be...lovely. But I am stressed about it. About the 'what if's'. There are 15 candidates for this job. If I get to round 2, I will have that extra something to get the job. IF i get to round 2. I don't know when I am going to hear about that. She said maybe today, but I have yet to see any thing in my inbox. I've been checking all day.
I just want this. More than my little heart can explain. And I don't want to keep wishing for good things to start coming my way, I want them to start occurring because I am more than ready (and qualified) for it. So yeah, my palms are sweating and my hearts racing and I am trying to stay positive but worried is more like it....
Yeah. I wrote it. I was contacted about a potential job at an amazing network. But that's all I'm going to say about it because I don't want to mess this up. I applied some two weeks ago, after researching some things and I spent that weekend debating whether I would be fit for the position. The position has nothing to do with production or writing but I felt it was closer to my dream job than being at the bookstore.
So needless to say I was shocked to open my email two days ago asking for an interview! Less than 48 hours later, I sat in the lobby of said network, eyeing memorabilia and wondering how the hell I got to this point. The email was very short and direct. I would partake in a 15-20 minute interview with a Hiring Manager to see if I was a good enough applicant for a more thorough interview in the future.
I didn't have too long to prepare for this thing. I bought a blouse and a spiffy new beige jacket and a professional looking portfolio to hold my resume in. With only 20 minutes to meet with someone I knew the questions would be more universal "how do you qualify for this job" "tell me about yourself" sort of things but I still wanted to be prepared. I spent all of Wednesday reading interview books at the bookstore and trying to casually rehearse things in my head.
I got to the interview 20 minutes early and was calm and relaxed. I did what I could in the 20 minutes with the Hiring Manager. She asked about my college degree and my internships. I asked about the work environment there and what role the position would play in the company. It was a pleasant and formal meeting. I was enthusiast but not eager and she said I would hear back from her when she made a decision on who would, in all honesty, get to round 2.
I haven't slept that well the last couple of days. This is only the 2nd interview that I've had for a actually job, the first being the editorial assistant gig in bridgeport. One year ago, I was at this same point where a potential job was looking me in the face and all I have to do is...sell myself.
But unlike last year, I am not heading home in a few weeks because my aunt is passively kicking me out of her house. I, for the most part, am here to stay as long as I am able to afford this life here. And unlike last year where I applied to that position just for the hell of it, I actively sought this one out because my skills matched up and I fucking love this network. I had to control my urge to geek out when the elevator doors opened an there was this huge poster of....well, one of my favorite shows EVER (that is not buffy I mean)!
And I'm nervous. And scared. And am sooooo sick of working at the bookstore. And I want this. Badly. I don't think I've ever wanted anything this bad in my whole entire life. And all I can think about is getting that second interview. At being able to come up with answers to the questions that they throw at me so I can blow them away. I know if given the chance I can, but did I convince her of that in the 15 minutes I had. I don't know.
This could change so many things in my life. I will still be stressed out, and slightly lonely, and struggling with anxiety and writing. But I would have a secure, decent paying job at [insert awesome network]. After graduating school two years ago (damn) to move here I would have a full time gig.
It would be...lovely. But I am stressed about it. About the 'what if's'. There are 15 candidates for this job. If I get to round 2, I will have that extra something to get the job. IF i get to round 2. I don't know when I am going to hear about that. She said maybe today, but I have yet to see any thing in my inbox. I've been checking all day.
I just want this. More than my little heart can explain. And I don't want to keep wishing for good things to start coming my way, I want them to start occurring because I am more than ready (and qualified) for it. So yeah, my palms are sweating and my hearts racing and I am trying to stay positive but worried is more like it....
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Keeping Mum
Something important has popped up. Something very important and very exciting that I want to scream to the whole entire world!
But I come from a very superstitious family. Seriously. From the time I was 6, I learned that stepping on cracks would injure my mother's back, and some much salt was thrown over shoulders we could have seasoned chicken with it.
One of my families favorite one is:'keep good new to yourself, until you are positive it is good news'. So yeah. Um. yeah, I don't want to say too much to threaten the awesomeness of this potential opportunity.
I got news of this yesterday, after a lackluster day of laying around and waiting for it to get dark outside. I checked my email after a nap and....big big news!
I called my mom, who then screamed on the phone and then warned me not to tell anyone about it. Not Marie, not my co-workers, no one. To her, once you let something like this slip out you taint the news because you've put it in someone else's hand. I told you, it's those Carolina superstitions that are born in our genes.
Tomorrow could be the beginning of a very important chain of events that could be the beginning of a new venture here. I'm excited, and nervous and feel really unprepared. I'm happy, and worried, and restless.
So fingers crossed for my very exciting yet all to secret thing tomorrow.
But I come from a very superstitious family. Seriously. From the time I was 6, I learned that stepping on cracks would injure my mother's back, and some much salt was thrown over shoulders we could have seasoned chicken with it.
One of my families favorite one is:'keep good new to yourself, until you are positive it is good news'. So yeah. Um. yeah, I don't want to say too much to threaten the awesomeness of this potential opportunity.
I got news of this yesterday, after a lackluster day of laying around and waiting for it to get dark outside. I checked my email after a nap and....big big news!
I called my mom, who then screamed on the phone and then warned me not to tell anyone about it. Not Marie, not my co-workers, no one. To her, once you let something like this slip out you taint the news because you've put it in someone else's hand. I told you, it's those Carolina superstitions that are born in our genes.
Tomorrow could be the beginning of a very important chain of events that could be the beginning of a new venture here. I'm excited, and nervous and feel really unprepared. I'm happy, and worried, and restless.
So fingers crossed for my very exciting yet all to secret thing tomorrow.
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Disappearing Act
A mere four days after being shoved by a crazy drunk lady I was called an asshole today by a customer. On mother's day. As if, you know, my mom wouldn't be offended that someone called her kid an asshole.
To all those recent college graduates who will soon find themselves out of school with enough book knowledge to.... well write a book, but too little work experience to, I don't know, get a job, working in retail will suck. It will suck hardcore. There will be days when you will not have a name. Because people with names deserve a little bit of dignity and respect, and lets just say you can throw that concept outside the window once you get behind a register or a counter.
You will not only NOT have a name, but you will not have a past, present or future. It will not matter to customers that you graduated from college. That you once rescued children from a burning building or that you donated to UNICEF. In retail you are a face without a name. You are just a face, and a body, and worse a thing. A thing which people can project their anger, happiness, and frustrations on. You've been warned graduates. Don't say I didn't give you the heads up.
As soon as I got into work, 12-8, a co-worker warned me that customers were in a weird mood. She said it like that weird old guy in horror movies who warns you about the creepy legend surrounding the camp, haunted house, or woods that you know you are going to enter. In fact, I hate when people warn you about things at all, because then it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. She said it was going to be a bad day, so that means it is going to be a bad day.
For the most part people were just frustrated about books that they wanted to buy but that we didn't have in the store. Of course they were shopping last minute for a mother's day gift which made it all the worse. I will never understand people who wait to the day of to buy gifts. It's not like we haven't been bombarded with mother's day reminders since April. So the store was packed.
Where the customers decided to get nasty were in their dissatisfaction with our ability to produce the service they wanted, just as they wanted it, when the wanted. Josh got yelled at by a guy who was unhappy that we didn't have a Obama bashing book in the store. He accused Josh and the store of being left winged and against conservatism. Another co-worker was told that she had wasted their (customers) time because she drove all the way down to the store to pick up a book she wasn't even sure we had (we didn't). Douches and Douchettes were swinging at us left and right and by the end of the day I was so over being a face without a name.
I only had two encounters with bad customers, but they were epic:
The first guy called the store because he bought an audio book that had a sticker on it for 20%. However it didn't ring up for 20% on his receipt and he wanted to know why he didn't get the discount. So I typed up the product number and go figure the item wasn't promo'd for anything. I told him that most likely it was once a promo but someone forgot to de-sticker it. He then got all irate. But it was stickered 20%, how could something accidentally be stickered 20%, it was on a table that had a bunch of other things stickered 20%.
Once again I explained the situation and that because it was our error he could return the item for the accidentally promo'd item. He then told me that I didn't sound like a manager and that I should be very careful telling him that he could get his 20% back if he couldn't and that he wanted to let all the stickering people that they made a huge error.
Having worked there for some time I know that anything stickered incorrectly has to be sold for the percentage marked off (we don't tell customers this until the moment they are yelling at us). I know this because I have had to do it several times, with a managers permission. And to me, if someone is telling you the price can be adjusted because of store error, I wouldn't question said person and threaten to call the stickering people police (he. said. this.). We went over this "but it says 20%", "I know, so you can return it and get the price adjusted but that's all I can do for you over the phone" before he said he was getting a little aggravated with me. We both hung up confused and dissatisfied (and the funniest thing. The book in question was called: Don't Sweat the Small Stuff).
The last lady (a mother no less) takes the cake though. I was at the cash register the last hour of my shift. For the most part it was uneventful, until the last five minutes. Josh and I were talking for a moment about hipsters and how awful they are when I heard someone do a 'hey you, come here now" whistle. I turn and it is this lady with her two kids waiting at the register. Josh splits and I start walking towards her. Automatically I know that she is at the wrong register (one down from mine) so I tell her as I pass her to sign in on mine that I am not at the register she is at. She doesn't hear me, because she is too busy preparing to get pissed.
She already had her books on the wrong counter, so I wait until she realizes that she is not at the right register. By then, she is livid. She pokes her head around to my register and mumbles 'you are so rude'. Maybe because I didn't grab the books off the register for her, maybe because I didn't do whistle at her like a dog to come hither. She slams her book at the right counter and gives me that stank eye.
When I ask her a question she answers in the affirmative and then whispers that I need to be written up by a manager because of how rude I am. ??? I ignore her and start ringing her up. She is seething, for reasons I am still not sure about and when the transaction is done she barely lets me get the books in the bag before she yanks it out of my hand. Remind you, her kids are still there, right beside her. As she walks away and mumbles "asshole!" and leaves the store.
By then someone was up there with me to cover the cash register and witnessed the angry lady and her attitude. She asked me 'what the hell was wrong with that lady' and all I could say was 'apparently i'm an asshole'. To be honest the whole exchange was absurd. There are a lot of things that I may be but asshole is not one of them. Not even close. But then I had to remember that to her I am not someones daughter, or a college graduate, or an okay writer with a blog. I am a nameless face, who is an asshole because she has deemed me one.
To say today was awful would be an understatement. It's bad enough that people deplete my energy but mean people destroy me. They chip at my particles and cause my whole to feel unsteady. Everyday I literally have to remind myself that I am a person. everyday. Some days are harder than others and I can feel myself start to disappear. Like one by one my limbs are fading away, erasing all traits of the person that I once was. It's a painful, brutal feeling. And after today, I feel less like a person than I have in a very long time. And not because some lady called me an asshole or that some guy on the phone was being a jerk but because being a nameless face I couldn't refute their assumptions about me.
I could only, smile sadly and say 'have a nice day', only to feel like crap now because I've disappeared completely into myself again.
To all those recent college graduates who will soon find themselves out of school with enough book knowledge to.... well write a book, but too little work experience to, I don't know, get a job, working in retail will suck. It will suck hardcore. There will be days when you will not have a name. Because people with names deserve a little bit of dignity and respect, and lets just say you can throw that concept outside the window once you get behind a register or a counter.
You will not only NOT have a name, but you will not have a past, present or future. It will not matter to customers that you graduated from college. That you once rescued children from a burning building or that you donated to UNICEF. In retail you are a face without a name. You are just a face, and a body, and worse a thing. A thing which people can project their anger, happiness, and frustrations on. You've been warned graduates. Don't say I didn't give you the heads up.
As soon as I got into work, 12-8, a co-worker warned me that customers were in a weird mood. She said it like that weird old guy in horror movies who warns you about the creepy legend surrounding the camp, haunted house, or woods that you know you are going to enter. In fact, I hate when people warn you about things at all, because then it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. She said it was going to be a bad day, so that means it is going to be a bad day.
For the most part people were just frustrated about books that they wanted to buy but that we didn't have in the store. Of course they were shopping last minute for a mother's day gift which made it all the worse. I will never understand people who wait to the day of to buy gifts. It's not like we haven't been bombarded with mother's day reminders since April. So the store was packed.
Where the customers decided to get nasty were in their dissatisfaction with our ability to produce the service they wanted, just as they wanted it, when the wanted. Josh got yelled at by a guy who was unhappy that we didn't have a Obama bashing book in the store. He accused Josh and the store of being left winged and against conservatism. Another co-worker was told that she had wasted their (customers) time because she drove all the way down to the store to pick up a book she wasn't even sure we had (we didn't). Douches and Douchettes were swinging at us left and right and by the end of the day I was so over being a face without a name.
I only had two encounters with bad customers, but they were epic:
The first guy called the store because he bought an audio book that had a sticker on it for 20%. However it didn't ring up for 20% on his receipt and he wanted to know why he didn't get the discount. So I typed up the product number and go figure the item wasn't promo'd for anything. I told him that most likely it was once a promo but someone forgot to de-sticker it. He then got all irate. But it was stickered 20%, how could something accidentally be stickered 20%, it was on a table that had a bunch of other things stickered 20%.
Once again I explained the situation and that because it was our error he could return the item for the accidentally promo'd item. He then told me that I didn't sound like a manager and that I should be very careful telling him that he could get his 20% back if he couldn't and that he wanted to let all the stickering people that they made a huge error.
Having worked there for some time I know that anything stickered incorrectly has to be sold for the percentage marked off (we don't tell customers this until the moment they are yelling at us). I know this because I have had to do it several times, with a managers permission. And to me, if someone is telling you the price can be adjusted because of store error, I wouldn't question said person and threaten to call the stickering people police (he. said. this.). We went over this "but it says 20%", "I know, so you can return it and get the price adjusted but that's all I can do for you over the phone" before he said he was getting a little aggravated with me. We both hung up confused and dissatisfied (and the funniest thing. The book in question was called: Don't Sweat the Small Stuff).
The last lady (a mother no less) takes the cake though. I was at the cash register the last hour of my shift. For the most part it was uneventful, until the last five minutes. Josh and I were talking for a moment about hipsters and how awful they are when I heard someone do a 'hey you, come here now" whistle. I turn and it is this lady with her two kids waiting at the register. Josh splits and I start walking towards her. Automatically I know that she is at the wrong register (one down from mine) so I tell her as I pass her to sign in on mine that I am not at the register she is at. She doesn't hear me, because she is too busy preparing to get pissed.
She already had her books on the wrong counter, so I wait until she realizes that she is not at the right register. By then, she is livid. She pokes her head around to my register and mumbles 'you are so rude'. Maybe because I didn't grab the books off the register for her, maybe because I didn't do whistle at her like a dog to come hither. She slams her book at the right counter and gives me that stank eye.
When I ask her a question she answers in the affirmative and then whispers that I need to be written up by a manager because of how rude I am. ??? I ignore her and start ringing her up. She is seething, for reasons I am still not sure about and when the transaction is done she barely lets me get the books in the bag before she yanks it out of my hand. Remind you, her kids are still there, right beside her. As she walks away and mumbles "asshole!" and leaves the store.
By then someone was up there with me to cover the cash register and witnessed the angry lady and her attitude. She asked me 'what the hell was wrong with that lady' and all I could say was 'apparently i'm an asshole'. To be honest the whole exchange was absurd. There are a lot of things that I may be but asshole is not one of them. Not even close. But then I had to remember that to her I am not someones daughter, or a college graduate, or an okay writer with a blog. I am a nameless face, who is an asshole because she has deemed me one.
To say today was awful would be an understatement. It's bad enough that people deplete my energy but mean people destroy me. They chip at my particles and cause my whole to feel unsteady. Everyday I literally have to remind myself that I am a person. everyday. Some days are harder than others and I can feel myself start to disappear. Like one by one my limbs are fading away, erasing all traits of the person that I once was. It's a painful, brutal feeling. And after today, I feel less like a person than I have in a very long time. And not because some lady called me an asshole or that some guy on the phone was being a jerk but because being a nameless face I couldn't refute their assumptions about me.
I could only, smile sadly and say 'have a nice day', only to feel like crap now because I've disappeared completely into myself again.
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Temperature Rising.
So a relatively 'famous' celeb/author came to our store last night and I am still recovering.
I'd like you to know that the night ended with me getting shoved by a drunk lady. Oh, yeah my life just keeps getting better.
Said 'celebrity' was a famous teen actor who has some how rebounded from obscurity with some recent stints on reality tv which has opened a bunch of doors for him. Oh, and by general 15 year old girl standards he is pretty hot.
I don't know how to explain it. His show was flipping huge in the late 80's and 90's. I woke up every weekend to the sound of the theme song playing on the tv. His character was legendary and you would have had to been born, lived, and died under a rock to not have seen this thing on syndication. But I think the idea of celebrity is weird. You take a person, shove them in front of a camera and immediately we get this sense that we know them. Or more perplexing that they are more valuable then us.
It's even more confusing when we replace them every few years with someone younger and less talented. I don't get it.
We've known about this event for weeks! And at first we were all really excited but that was quickly replaced by terror. Hot attractive 'famous person' does a book signing in a vapid community of teeny boppers and bored housewives and you lose the excitement factor. All I could think about was a) I would have to work that night and b) I would have to clean up after the event was over. Fun times.
The whole night was complete chaos. Every other phone call was about the event, and every other customer question revolved around the event. Yes you need wrist bands, he might take pictures, no you cannot bring old memorabilia, seriously.
Then some asshole in the cafe kept coming to customer service to ask if we could turn down the music playing over the speakers because he was studying for an exam. Who comes to a bookstore to study in the first place. It's not a library, and then who complains about the music being too loud to concentrate. Go home, if the music is too loud or better yet go to a library. They have nice little silent cubbie holes for studying.
He kept coming back every 10 minutes to remind us that the music still was too loud. I seriously felt like telling him to go home because loud music was the least of his problems. If you see a guy in his early 20's with tight light blue jeans and a collard white shirt with weird dirty blond hair of a poodle walking around, poke him for me.
The event of course started late and by then the women and handful of men (one with a very prominent boner) were getting restless. Let me get back to the boner guy. He is banned from the store because he threatened to shot a customer a few weeks ago. I wasn't there. I don't really know what happened but the managers said if we saw him to alert someone immediately.
I've never really helped him locate stuff before because he always knows what he wants. Gay Porn. Lots of it. And not the gay lit that we have in the section, I'm talking hardcore gay magazines with the shrink wrap. The only time I encounter him is when he is purchasing a shit load of porn. And it's creepy. Not the porn (well that too) but because he looks like an offender. He's around 60, out of shape, always sweating with loose fitting sweat pants and you know what he does with the porn when he gets home. You just do.
So I was kind of surprised when I saw him round the corner to customer service. The managers were too. He was clutching one of the 'authors' book, with an eager look on his face and very prominent tent in his pants. And though I am not an expert in boys or their boners, it was way obvious that he was very excited. very.
"Where can I buy the book that his is signing" says boner guy. I nod my head to the front of the store and him and balls head towards the register. For some reason the manager didn't call the cops on him because in her words "that's one more sale for the store" I hate the bookstore. Hate it.
As soon as 'famous guy' came the girls started screaming. The screams were full of intense hormonal attraction. Not only were they yelling but they started standing on the shelves, causing things to collapse. One lady even left her child unattended in the children's department so she could get a picture with him. Horrible.
I must admit, I got a glimpse of him and he looked like a wax figure. I saw him round the corner and was like 'he looks exactly like his picture'. That was the extent of my interest. No lie. I spent the rest of the night rubbing my temple because my head hurt. I don't do well in crowds, I don't do well in crowds where people are screaming and crying. I just don't
Amazingly we were a still functioning bookstore despite the disappearance of two managers and a couple of employees. I got stuck at customer service where I would eventually encounter the drunk lady who shoved me.
She comes there all the time and I usually avoid her but my head hurt and I wanted a break from the screaming girls. She wanted to know if we had an AA book (of course she did) but the one she wanted we don't carry in our store. So she asked me to take her to the section. I took her to the addiction/ recovery aisle and pointed out some revelant books. I said bye and then I turned and saw an employee. So I started talking to said employee about how the event was going. She was standing in front of the break room because 'celeb' was getting ready to leave and they wanted to barricade hallway from women.
As I was talking, the drunk lady kept saying 'thank you. you can go now. thank you'. I turned around and told her that I wasn't helping her anymore and that I could talk to my friend if I wanted to (my head hurt. bitchiness ensues). She mumbled that she couldn't look for books with me around to which i replied that standing in the same aisle doesn't imply me looking over her. I turned back to employee to resume the conversation (really just to get on drunk ladies nerves now) and then drunk lady said 'no seriously thank you' while she attempted to push me out of the aisle. Gently, of course, but still. Hands made contact with my shoulder, as she was shoving me away from the addiction shelves. I turned around and she mumbled 'you know what i can't do this' and then shuffled away.
Someone teleport me out of this place. I will pay you in short stories and poetry.
As soon as 'sort of celeb person' left so did the crowd, and we spent about two hours cleaning up the mess. It was ridiculous. I don't understand people. From the women dressed like high class hookers to drunk lady I just am too exhausted with life right now. I am still on a vicious job hunt that has me applying to 6-8 positions a week. And nothing. Absolutely nothing. Keeping my head above water, one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. It's so easy to want to slip under the surface and let the current take me. I sometimes want no control over this body that I possess.
Becks
I'd like you to know that the night ended with me getting shoved by a drunk lady. Oh, yeah my life just keeps getting better.
Said 'celebrity' was a famous teen actor who has some how rebounded from obscurity with some recent stints on reality tv which has opened a bunch of doors for him. Oh, and by general 15 year old girl standards he is pretty hot.
I don't know how to explain it. His show was flipping huge in the late 80's and 90's. I woke up every weekend to the sound of the theme song playing on the tv. His character was legendary and you would have had to been born, lived, and died under a rock to not have seen this thing on syndication. But I think the idea of celebrity is weird. You take a person, shove them in front of a camera and immediately we get this sense that we know them. Or more perplexing that they are more valuable then us.
It's even more confusing when we replace them every few years with someone younger and less talented. I don't get it.
We've known about this event for weeks! And at first we were all really excited but that was quickly replaced by terror. Hot attractive 'famous person' does a book signing in a vapid community of teeny boppers and bored housewives and you lose the excitement factor. All I could think about was a) I would have to work that night and b) I would have to clean up after the event was over. Fun times.
The whole night was complete chaos. Every other phone call was about the event, and every other customer question revolved around the event. Yes you need wrist bands, he might take pictures, no you cannot bring old memorabilia, seriously.
Then some asshole in the cafe kept coming to customer service to ask if we could turn down the music playing over the speakers because he was studying for an exam. Who comes to a bookstore to study in the first place. It's not a library, and then who complains about the music being too loud to concentrate. Go home, if the music is too loud or better yet go to a library. They have nice little silent cubbie holes for studying.
He kept coming back every 10 minutes to remind us that the music still was too loud. I seriously felt like telling him to go home because loud music was the least of his problems. If you see a guy in his early 20's with tight light blue jeans and a collard white shirt with weird dirty blond hair of a poodle walking around, poke him for me.
The event of course started late and by then the women and handful of men (one with a very prominent boner) were getting restless. Let me get back to the boner guy. He is banned from the store because he threatened to shot a customer a few weeks ago. I wasn't there. I don't really know what happened but the managers said if we saw him to alert someone immediately.
I've never really helped him locate stuff before because he always knows what he wants. Gay Porn. Lots of it. And not the gay lit that we have in the section, I'm talking hardcore gay magazines with the shrink wrap. The only time I encounter him is when he is purchasing a shit load of porn. And it's creepy. Not the porn (well that too) but because he looks like an offender. He's around 60, out of shape, always sweating with loose fitting sweat pants and you know what he does with the porn when he gets home. You just do.
So I was kind of surprised when I saw him round the corner to customer service. The managers were too. He was clutching one of the 'authors' book, with an eager look on his face and very prominent tent in his pants. And though I am not an expert in boys or their boners, it was way obvious that he was very excited. very.
"Where can I buy the book that his is signing" says boner guy. I nod my head to the front of the store and him and balls head towards the register. For some reason the manager didn't call the cops on him because in her words "that's one more sale for the store" I hate the bookstore. Hate it.
As soon as 'famous guy' came the girls started screaming. The screams were full of intense hormonal attraction. Not only were they yelling but they started standing on the shelves, causing things to collapse. One lady even left her child unattended in the children's department so she could get a picture with him. Horrible.
I must admit, I got a glimpse of him and he looked like a wax figure. I saw him round the corner and was like 'he looks exactly like his picture'. That was the extent of my interest. No lie. I spent the rest of the night rubbing my temple because my head hurt. I don't do well in crowds, I don't do well in crowds where people are screaming and crying. I just don't
Amazingly we were a still functioning bookstore despite the disappearance of two managers and a couple of employees. I got stuck at customer service where I would eventually encounter the drunk lady who shoved me.
She comes there all the time and I usually avoid her but my head hurt and I wanted a break from the screaming girls. She wanted to know if we had an AA book (of course she did) but the one she wanted we don't carry in our store. So she asked me to take her to the section. I took her to the addiction/ recovery aisle and pointed out some revelant books. I said bye and then I turned and saw an employee. So I started talking to said employee about how the event was going. She was standing in front of the break room because 'celeb' was getting ready to leave and they wanted to barricade hallway from women.
As I was talking, the drunk lady kept saying 'thank you. you can go now. thank you'. I turned around and told her that I wasn't helping her anymore and that I could talk to my friend if I wanted to (my head hurt. bitchiness ensues). She mumbled that she couldn't look for books with me around to which i replied that standing in the same aisle doesn't imply me looking over her. I turned back to employee to resume the conversation (really just to get on drunk ladies nerves now) and then drunk lady said 'no seriously thank you' while she attempted to push me out of the aisle. Gently, of course, but still. Hands made contact with my shoulder, as she was shoving me away from the addiction shelves. I turned around and she mumbled 'you know what i can't do this' and then shuffled away.
Someone teleport me out of this place. I will pay you in short stories and poetry.
As soon as 'sort of celeb person' left so did the crowd, and we spent about two hours cleaning up the mess. It was ridiculous. I don't understand people. From the women dressed like high class hookers to drunk lady I just am too exhausted with life right now. I am still on a vicious job hunt that has me applying to 6-8 positions a week. And nothing. Absolutely nothing. Keeping my head above water, one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. It's so easy to want to slip under the surface and let the current take me. I sometimes want no control over this body that I possess.
Becks
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Humidity Wave.
It's hot. Really hot. And I want to complain to the sun or the humidity or both to let up on the heat for a while. Seriously. I am melting here.
I know. I know. I lived in the south for ten years. But you know what the south has that new york doesn't....central AC. And it's amazing! In my book there are few things that I like about south carolina more than New York. But Central Air and Heat keeps the Carolina's near and dear to my heart. Who needs to go outside when you have cool air coming through the vents. Some days looking outside made me feel all sweaty, but thanks to AC, I would sit in my house and not feel it at all.
How I miss that. The last couple of days have been miserable. Like a bat out of hell, May charged in and pushed April out of the way. It brought along with it an unusual warm front. Ever since Saturday we have been drowning in very humid weather. I can't sleep at night, I am being eaten alive by mosquito's and despite wanting to stay inside it's a little cooler outside.
I've never wanted a thunderstorm more. Or just a random cold front to happen. I may be the only person who despises this weather, but if you saw the huge (huge!) bite mark on my arm and middle finger you'd agree.
In all honesty though, I can't believe May is already here. Come August I will have been out of college for 2 years. And come September the same will be true of my time living in New York. I had a crazy dream last night about work, McAbs, Marie, my brother and mom, Lenny and Simon. And I can't help but parallel it to my post grad life.
I can't fully comprehend the last two years of my life. It's not so much that they have flown by but where I have made real strides (figuring out what I want to do, meeting Angie) I've faced setbacks that are equivalent (job search anybody.living with and then being kicked out of my aunts house). There are days when I just want to pack up and go home. Not having to pay rent would be awesome and lounging in my mom's house with AC is a perk.
I feel at odds with my life. I feel tension arising from all fronts of my emotional and physical state. The summer before I graduated I attended two summer sessions at school. The summers in Columbia were brutal because we are surrounded by concrete and steel. Being in the middle of the state does not help, and are lack of a 'real' river called for some horrible summer days.
One day we had an epic thunderstorm. From my window, I could see these ominous looking clouds from outside. Then all of a sudden the power went out. It was so quiet and so dark that I was actually pretty freaked out. Everyone emerged from their dorms to ask what was going on, but then before you knew it we all went back into our little holes.
I had nothing to do, so I remember tentatively writing a story about the storm and the blackout. And how in the that hour or so that I had to sit alone with myself. And it was this very stifling feeling. The heat creates this tension that envelopes you. I mean your skin perspires, your head hurts, my body gets really tense but then on this emotional level I was forced to deal with my own tensions about graduating and changing my major. I found some parallel between the heat and my own tensions. All of this because of the storm and the heat and the subsequent blackout that lasted for two hours.
And I realize that when it gets hot. I don't want to do anything outside of laying really still and letting the sun do what it will to me. But because it's physically immobilizing, all I can do is think rampant thoughts about my life. About staying in New York, not staying here, or going home where the AC always run.
But anytime I get that feeling I have to push it aside. Because I know that I would not be happy there. My mom knows this too. But I can't help but feel a little unhappy here also. 2 years into the real world and I don't have a grasp of what I am doing or what to do to make things better. And now May is all of a sudden here, and it's hot and I'm sweaty and I'm still a little dissatisfied about life and what to do about it.
I know. I know. I lived in the south for ten years. But you know what the south has that new york doesn't....central AC. And it's amazing! In my book there are few things that I like about south carolina more than New York. But Central Air and Heat keeps the Carolina's near and dear to my heart. Who needs to go outside when you have cool air coming through the vents. Some days looking outside made me feel all sweaty, but thanks to AC, I would sit in my house and not feel it at all.
How I miss that. The last couple of days have been miserable. Like a bat out of hell, May charged in and pushed April out of the way. It brought along with it an unusual warm front. Ever since Saturday we have been drowning in very humid weather. I can't sleep at night, I am being eaten alive by mosquito's and despite wanting to stay inside it's a little cooler outside.
I've never wanted a thunderstorm more. Or just a random cold front to happen. I may be the only person who despises this weather, but if you saw the huge (huge!) bite mark on my arm and middle finger you'd agree.
In all honesty though, I can't believe May is already here. Come August I will have been out of college for 2 years. And come September the same will be true of my time living in New York. I had a crazy dream last night about work, McAbs, Marie, my brother and mom, Lenny and Simon. And I can't help but parallel it to my post grad life.
I can't fully comprehend the last two years of my life. It's not so much that they have flown by but where I have made real strides (figuring out what I want to do, meeting Angie) I've faced setbacks that are equivalent (job search anybody.living with and then being kicked out of my aunts house). There are days when I just want to pack up and go home. Not having to pay rent would be awesome and lounging in my mom's house with AC is a perk.
I feel at odds with my life. I feel tension arising from all fronts of my emotional and physical state. The summer before I graduated I attended two summer sessions at school. The summers in Columbia were brutal because we are surrounded by concrete and steel. Being in the middle of the state does not help, and are lack of a 'real' river called for some horrible summer days.
One day we had an epic thunderstorm. From my window, I could see these ominous looking clouds from outside. Then all of a sudden the power went out. It was so quiet and so dark that I was actually pretty freaked out. Everyone emerged from their dorms to ask what was going on, but then before you knew it we all went back into our little holes.
I had nothing to do, so I remember tentatively writing a story about the storm and the blackout. And how in the that hour or so that I had to sit alone with myself. And it was this very stifling feeling. The heat creates this tension that envelopes you. I mean your skin perspires, your head hurts, my body gets really tense but then on this emotional level I was forced to deal with my own tensions about graduating and changing my major. I found some parallel between the heat and my own tensions. All of this because of the storm and the heat and the subsequent blackout that lasted for two hours.
And I realize that when it gets hot. I don't want to do anything outside of laying really still and letting the sun do what it will to me. But because it's physically immobilizing, all I can do is think rampant thoughts about my life. About staying in New York, not staying here, or going home where the AC always run.
But anytime I get that feeling I have to push it aside. Because I know that I would not be happy there. My mom knows this too. But I can't help but feel a little unhappy here also. 2 years into the real world and I don't have a grasp of what I am doing or what to do to make things better. And now May is all of a sudden here, and it's hot and I'm sweaty and I'm still a little dissatisfied about life and what to do about it.
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