Stuff/On/Tom | Sunday/reviews. | For/um. | Other/shit.

End and Start.


So, I'm close enough to being out of debt that I decided I could quit one of my jobs.   I decided on the grocery store for almost every reason.  It's seriously taking years off the end of my life going in there with as little sleep as I do, plus the uniform has some floral print on it that I can't really handle, and I hate talking with customers about weather.  And also, looking back at my life, I feel like I've witnessed the most instances of shitty parenting in grocery stores, even before I worked at one.  Which is taxing to be constantly exposed to.  For example, there's this one heavy set woman that comes into the store somewhat often with her clearly unplanned son.  I spend little enough time around kids to be able to accurately guess their ages, but my estimation would be that this child is between the ages of 5 and 11.  The mom I think shops there just because we have a reputation for customer service and won't yell at kids when warranted, like a lot of employees of our competitors probably would.  So, she just walks around slowly, leaning on the handle of her shopping cart, which enables her to not burn as many calories as walking normally would, thus helping ensure that she will continue to be unshapely in the future, as her child wanders around the store pestering employees like me.  He always wants to help, and yeah, it's mindless work that a child could do, but he still just ends up under foot, other than one day some dumbfuck dropped a carton of eggs and I had the kid clean it up so I could reduce my own risk of contracting salmonella (true story).  But the kid also wants to bag groceries, and his mom lets him get behind the checkstand and ask customers if he can bag for them, and of course they don't want him to because he's grubby as fuck and has inefficient skills as a bagger.  So, the pressure is put on either me or the customer to reject the child's request, while his mom is asleep at the wheel.  Anyway, I guess all I'm saying is that there are parents out there that can apparently sleep at night, even having gone through the day sharing their burden with dozens of strangers.

But I digress.

I went into the backroom, and the second-highest boss was doing some stuff.  I get along with him the most so I chose to speak to him.  I said I wanted to have a chat and he said he had a couple things to do first.  So, I paced back and forth, side to side, really just wherever, because I'm good at pacing like that.  One of my other supervisors who was a cranky bitch asked:

"What are you doing, other than sauntering around?"

"I am only sauntering around."

She was probably structuring an abrasive sentence with what meager resources she had to do so when the higher boss said I was waiting on him.  He finished whatever organizing he was doing and we walked out the back door.  This boss knew that talks with me usually entailed enough shit talking to warrant leaving the premise altogether.

"Where should we go?"

"I need a bottle.  How about the liquor store?"

"Okay, let's go to the liquor store."  He agreed like it was an interesting novelty, but I went there often during my shifts.

On the way, I let him know that the company wouldn't see my subordination come the beginning of July.  He wasn't surprised and asked what I was going to do.  When people would ask me that, it was like a floodgate wanted to open behind my mouth, but all that would ever come out was, "Lots."

At the liquor store they had free samples of rum.  I shot one and grabbed a fifth of 101 before bee lining for checkout.  We walked back to the store and I put the whisky in my car before getting back to my shift.

There was a pretty girl working that I got along with well.  We took lunch at the same time and I said we should go to my car.  She asked if I had beer out there and was surprised when I said no.  We loaded in and I got out the bottle and it made sense to her.  We drove through the suburbs talking and sipping whisky for our whole break, went back and punched in late.  I worked a little slower than usual, and I felt just fine about it.  

really old months:

December, 2008
November, 2008
October, 2008
September, 2008
August, 2008
July, 2008
June, 2008
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April, 2008
February, 2008
January, 2008
December, 2007
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December, 2006
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January, 2006
December, 2005
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December, 2004
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December, 2002
November, 2002