You can pick your nose....  

Posted by Jonathan E Johns in , , , , , ,

So I'm having a hard time at work. My new job is retail, still stuck in retail. I yearn for another office job. I would rather deal with the idiots in cubes, than the ones across the counter. I know both jobs entail sacrificing your soul, and everything you believe in to someone with the I.Q. Of a mango, but somehow I feel that being taken advantage of by someone you don't know, and never have to see again is just dis-heartening.

Also, the people I work for, well, it is an old story, but a good one. I am the lowest on the totem pole here, and the three co-owners, and manager are always around, giving me different directions, and lists of things to do. It's like being married to triplets. In addition, they all take smoke breaks, lunch breaks, any kind of break they want, and I work 9 hours straight, with not even a potty break.

It's better than being unemployed, but not by much.

The real problem is that I have some moments during my day when I think of things to blog about, and forget them quickly.

The store I work in has a drive-thru, and I honestly wonder sometimes if I am not inconveniencing the people who pull up tot he window in their car. Somehow they make me feel like I am in some way interrupting their phone-call-while-eating-and-having-a-conversation-with-the-person-in-the-backseat time.

In addition, since I work at a liquor store, I get to see people buying half-pints of terrible vodka at 9 am, breathing their alcohol breath at me. And since I work and live in a very backwards part of the world on the fringe of the Ozark mountains and the great plains of Kansas, I get to see some of the worst dental hygiene on the planet, outside of England.

Also, I get to hear complaints of the increase in a twelve pack of Keystone Light by $.10, and how if Obama gets elected, we'll all be living in a socialist country, and won't even be able to buy beer anymore.

It is soul wrenching.

Night before last, I had a very very drunk customer come on and purchase five Power-ball lottery tickets. After I punched the right keys, five random computer generated tickets popped out, and he looked at them, complained that I was 'Fucked', and could 'stick the tickets up my ass'. He threw the tickets at me, and walked out. I observed that out of the five individual tickets, there were three power-balls numbered 10, and two numbered 11. He wanted to get five different power balls, and was pissed off that the computer didn't randomly give him what he wanted. Of course this was my fault.

So far these are random observations ranting about work. Pretty boring stuff.

I came home the other day, and found my landlord and her husband emptying the apartment below me. Turns out the previous occupants had not paid their rent for three months, and when she came by to check on them found they had turned off the utilities a month ago, and were no where to be found. The two guys had lived there for years, and suddenly disappeared, leaving everything behind. The landlord said the apartment was pretty clean, except for the fridge, which had two weeks of spoiled food, and a dirty carpet, but no stains. They left everything behind, bed, TV, furniture, computer. The landlord was incredibly nice to me.

I say that only because out of the over 18 months I've lived here I have paid my rent on-time, or early exactly three times. Right now, I am two months behind. My apartment is pretty messy, I am not a good housekeeper, and I know that sometimes they come by and knock, and if I am not here, they open the door and come in, so I know they've seen the dirty apartment I live in. Yet they are incredibly nice to me, joking around, and commenting, and asking about my family.

It baffles my mind.

One comment that I didn't understand at all was when the landlord asked me how old I was. Her husband then replied that my age is 'when the women really start to chase you,' and I had no idea how to reply. Was he saying it generally? Or was he chased a lot when he was my age? How uncomfortable.

I think what gets me is that people that really don't know anything about me tend to like me. It is hard to understand because I guess I don't like myself too awfully much. But I know myself pretty well. Maybe I fear that I will just disappoint them when they really get to know me. Like I have disappointed myself so often.

I wonder sometimes if I behave the way I wish I was, and when I am who I actually am, I turn out to be nothing like the person I 'pretend' to be. Is it dishonest? Does everyone do it? I am not trying to put on airs, or intentionally deceive people. In the workplace, one has to behave a certain way, right? Behave professionally? Do people behave professionally at home? In bed? While Jogging?

Maybe it is the fact that my entire social life comes from work. And therefore, everyone I know 'socially' only sees me as I behave at work. If I had more of a social life outside of work or home, I could behave more like myself. But this would require me finding people to socialize with that don't work with me, or patronize my workplace. And to find these people, I would have to know people who would introduce me to these new potential friends. But I know no one. At least here, I know no one.

My friends are all people I have worked with in the past, or served as customers in the past. I guess that is pretty normal. The whole thing about you can pick your friends but you can't pick your family comes into play here, since I have little way of picking friends here. There is no way to meet people int his small town, nor any way to socialize. There are probably people here who I would get along with, and have fun with, but there is not way to find them.

I guess I'll have to find a way. At least until I can get back home to Cali, and get back with my real friends.

This entry was posted on Friday, October 10, 2008 at 8:31 PM and is filed under , , , , , , . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .

1 comments

wow. i would hardly call working at a DRIVETHRU LIQUOR STORE boring. holy hell...

dude, you should do what i do--carry index cards in your back pocket. scribble down a note on your next blog when no one's looking.

then write a script about your adventures and get out here.

October 13, 2008 at 3:19 PM

Post a Comment