Saturday, October 9, 2010

Sand lines

Material just sometimes presents itself.

I mean, I know I've been all sporadic with the posting recently (ok, so I've done next to no posting...bad Nyx, BAD), but I just haven't gotten my "write" on in a while. And, quite frankly, as I've said a billion times before - I'd rather post nothing than absolute dribble. I've done the dribble postings. I'm sure ya'll have noticed. It ain't pretty.

Anyways, material. It's quite good at presenting itself.

So I don't work at the big mega-billion dollar corporate petstore anymore. Instead, I slug away as minor management in a small family owned one now.

Gotta tell ya - it still sucks.

Anyways, the store I'm at now is in a rather wealthy portion of town. The part of town where a Lamborghini MurciƩlago is considered to be an everyday occurance.

Seriously. WTF do these people do for a living? Cuz I gotta tell ya, they're seriously lacking in the brain power department.

Like, wowzie lacking.

Anywho, there I am, being a nice little overlord low-level manager when a customer walked into the store.

Seriously, I'd like to know why people think they can return shit that's obviously years old. About 5 years old. According to the receipt that was so *graciously* handed to my assistant manager. 14 day return policy. Says so on the receipt. And on the register. And the sign above the register. And the back wall. And the front window. And right above the collars and harnesses. And...ok, I'll stop. You get the point.

I totally booked it out of there. Sorry Little One (the name I will henceforth use to refer to said assistant manager), but I was totally not going anywhere near that hot mess.

And so, as I was in the back room, I started thinking about all the jobs I've had in the past. Some were good, some were bad, and some just downright sucked donkey balls. For instance, I used to work in a kitchen.

My manager used to look down the girl's shirts, the cook went to jail for first degree murder, one of the other cooks had just gotten out of a 5-year stint in jail for drug charges (among other things), one of the women I trained ran after said womanizing manager with a knife, and us girls had to band together to avoid the clutches of Harry (an employee (who was, naturally, friends with the manager) that enjoyed hugging women from behind. And didn't like to let go.

Incidentally enough, it was the cook (the one that committed first-degree murder) that got him fired - he raised hell until that jerk was gone.

And so, on top of all that drama, we had 100 degree heat in the summer (as anyone who's ever worked in a kitchen with no air in the summer will tell you - it sucks) and a bunch of cranky old people to cook for. That was not a good job.

But, the cook? That went to jail for first degree murder?

Stayed home from the superbowl. The game he had tickets for - to see his favorite team, the Steelers - play. And why did he do this?

Because his mother was sick.

And that cook that had just gotten out of jail? For the drug chargers? Yea, he had discovered God during his time. He used to bring a Bible to read out of during his breaks (he wasn't a good reader - barely literate, he had flunked out of high-school and he delved deep into the world of drugs before his incarceration), and he would always be the first one to try to stop a fight if it started. I recall having deep philosophical conversations with him. It's not often you can find someone who can discuss the Daodejing in a reasonably intelligent way, and then flip around and talk about how many G's he used to pull down out on the street. Yo. (ok, so it's been a while and I can't exactly recall the exact conversation, but you get the general idea)

I don't have an excuse for the woman who lost it and started chasing after my boss with a knife, or Harry. Fact of the matter is, there's always going to be ignorant people out there. And there's always going to be good people out there.

But the lines in the sand aren't definate.