Mr. Cellophane

In a location adjacent to a place in a city of some significance, what comes out of my head is plastered on the walls of this blog.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Altogether, now: "I'm not even supposed to be here today!"

The above line popularized in Clerks is very appropriate. Today, for incredibly vague (read: unknown) reasons, I was asked to cover another guy's shift. It wouldn't have been so bad, at least, if a) I didn't have to work the night before and b) it weren't one of the more emotionally crucifying days that yesterday and today have in common.

In case I didn't already mention this, I work in customer service at a grocery store: cashing checks, processing bills, selling lottery tickets...essentially glorified babysitting (note to self: never have children). I do pretty well in terms of keeping my cool, but one mistendered check later, I go to pieces. (On the job, I pride myself on perfection. Near-perfection works, too.) It ceases to be about the job; I hate failing, and it's moments like these that fit the category.

Oh, and I hate my job. Not all the time. I like that I don't have all that much to do, but it's those moments when I have to do everything that really wreck me. I deal with a lot of idiots. The stupidity of some of the customers is more than I can stand. Now, it's one thing for the customers to be this way, but you can't help but fear for your sanity when the co-workers exhibit these traits. (After all, they're supposed to know better!) And if it's not stupidity afflicting these people, it's apathy. They don't even realize that I'm trying to help them. I've been at this for nearly two years (the amount of time I said I'd be working here on my application). I'm kind of afraid to do anything like quit (I need to work, you know.) , but I'd better think of something. When homeless people - let me say that again: homeless people without homes or jobs - start treating you like you don't exist, it's high time to change things.

It's a goddamn good thing I've updated my resume.


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