I’m sure some of you out there work retail. And so I’m sure you will understand the rant I am about to expunge. However, retail experience or not, imagine working nine (9) days in a row without a day off. In retail.
So yes, I’m fucking tired.
What is it about retail that brings out the absolute worst in the human race? What is it about scum that makes them inhabit stores, stalking around for hours on end saying things like, ‘What do you mean I need a receipt to return this book you haven’t carried in five (5) years?’ or ‘What do you mean I can’t have forty (40) percent off this item because I dropped one of your books on my hand?’ What they really should be asking is, ‘What do you mean if you could dig up Jason Vorhees corpse and stick a metal rod in his head during a lightning storm and accidentally (?) resurrect him you feel your own death would almost be worth it no matter how terrible it was if you knew he would end my life in screaming agony?’
One can hope, right?
Seriously, what makes people specifically treat retail, and service industry, employees so terribly? It’s like we’re the Darfur of America’s working class. That might be a tactless comparison, but is it inaccurate? What makes someone say to someone trying to help them, ‘I could go find this myself but I feel it is my duty to keep you gainfully employed during this time of economic crisis?’*
Maybe we’ll never know. I can only hope though that there is a special end waiting for these people, one that is worthy of a horror movie.
I did the nine day thing to myself, rearranging my days off in a pinch to attend a screenwriting expo in Hollywood this weekend. Stay tuned, I have a feeling I’ll be posting about that in a day or two.
* I know the woman who said this to me the other day is not reading this (unless I use words like MYSTIC ROCK AND GEM HEALING PROPERTIES or SPIRITUAL CRYSTALS to try and trigger a google match) but if you all would help me pretend that she is for a moment, ‘YOU FUCKING IGNORANT CUNT!!! You live on the hill in PV, don’t you? You probably come down every once in a while to exert your frustrations on those who you feel are beneath you because you are so powerless in the rest of your life. Can’t keep the husband from fucking the secretary, can you? And I’ll bet those pills the doctor gave you don’t help anymore, do they? And I’ll bet you’ve figured out if you could double the dosage they might, but ‘ol Doc’s not going to go for that is he? Not even after you try to blow him in his office and he shoots down your pathetic, well out of practice advances and the whole visit turns incredibly awkward. And of course you no longer understand what it’s like to only want to be with one person for the sake of how you feel for them, so you take the turn down as a testament to just how ugly you are, because inside you feel ugly, don’t you? Maybe it’s time to re-evaluate why you keep that gun in your closet and if it could do you some good, eh?
— sorry, I know that’s a bit harsh, but if you work in retail, chances are you understand.