Category Archives: Retail Strife (A.K.A. My Job)

Skipping

This is what happens when I don’t do Slutty Sundays

Yesterday,  I decided not to write any slutty fiction, pose any slutty questions, or be metaphorically slutty in any way. I made this decision based on the fact that I was exhausted, I had to go to work, and I really couldn’t be bothered. (Also, the fact that my mom suggested to me that “my mind was not in a good place” may or may not have had something to do with it!)

Apparently though, skipping it was a bad idea.

It was around 6pm, my co-worker had left for the day, and there was really nothing to do in the store except stand around and wait for possible customers. So, naturally, my mind began to wonder. But not just in the usual way. This time, as I stood behind my register, eyes drifting lazily out the open door, I was suddenly hit with an overwhelming image of a very carnal nature.

It wasn’t of anyone specific, just a tall, dark-haired man who was suddenly doing various unmentionable things as he pressed me against a wall, or lifted me on to the counter, making my pulse quicken and giving me one of my all-time favorite feelings in the whole wide world… that I know of!

But the thing is… I was at work. I was trapped. I had to stop!

A few of you may recognize my frustration from this tweet, which was my only means of venting while remaining at my post:

“Oh god, I think I am beginning to lose it… again. Have started having “day dreams” at work. Must. Be. Normal!”

This is getting out of hand.

Maybe next time I will remember that skipping Slutty Sundays = uncomfortable sexual takeover of the mind at worst possible moment.

Right, never again. Promise… maybe!

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Filed under Lust, Retail Strife (A.K.A. My Job)

I’m just [NOT] your type

In this phase of my life, I am under constant renovation. I need change, I seek change, so I change myself.

In the past, my many re-inventions where out of some odd compulsion to discover what “type” of girl I was. I simply had to know. And, oddly enough, finding a header to put myself under was no easy task. In fact, I found it so damn impossible to “figure myself out”, that at some point or another, I simply stopped trying. But along the way, it was more than a little funny.

Here are some of the types I thought I might fit into, at some piont, and the reasons why they were eventually a total fail:

Type #1: The Tom boy

Honestly, I have no idea why this type ever occurred to me. I would blame latency (it was around age 10 or 11), but I know for a fact that I did like boys… Come to think of it, did I ever even have a period of latency? Perhaps when I was a tiny baby or something? Anyway, I digress. The reasons for my attraction to this type are unclear, but the reasons for my complete failure at it are not… For one thing, I have zero eye-hand coordination. Sports are evil, I can’t play them. And yes, trying to look “cool” in that hard-core 90’s way *laughs* only made me look like a fool, LIKE A FOOL (Sorry, Phoebe from Friends snuck in at the end there!)

Type #2: The Prepster

This one I tried in middle school (grades 7 and 8, ages 12 and 13), probably because all the white kids at my school (of which I was one) were either band geeks or preps… and there was no way I was going to try and learn an instrument in front of hoards of other kids, so… I tried to be a prep. And yes, I failed. I was painfully shy (although at the time I preferred the term “quiet”) so socializing in general was not one of my strong points… I also had this weird thing about not wanting people to know how little money I had (preps are supposed to be loaded, after all), so when someone asked me where I got my amazing glitter jeans, instead of saying “Sears” (which is where I got them) I said “I don’t remember” (which is unbelievable). Hi, weird much? (The correct answer is “yes”, by the way.)

Type #3: The California Girl

Haha, now this one is funny. Being that I am in fact from California, you would think that personifying the “California Girl” would be easy. Not so. First off, this one was doomed from the start for a very particular reason: I was attempting to imitate my younger sister. My younger sister has always been the prettier one (it’s true), is waaaay easier to get along with than I am (sometimes), and as for that whole “California look” – she has it in spades. I am not saying that I want to be like my younger sister now (because, hello?! – then I wouldn’t get to be me!) but there was a time where I just thought it would be so much easier. Another reason why the California look was not for me? I am VERY pale… and brunette… and I have somewhat sharp features (in places)… and long hair makes me antsy… and oh yah, I’m moody. California? I don’t think so.

Type #4: The Glamour Girl

Being glamorous was never in the cards for me. For one thing, it costs a lot of money, which I don’t have. For another, it costs money which I don’t have. Okay, okay – the real reason why I can in no way be considered for this type is because my lifestyle just doesn’t support it. I work in a small shop in Touristville, where the uniform is jeans and a hideous black t-shirt (I mean really, way to hide all my good curves and make me look more like a line-backer than I ever cared to! Yah… thanks!) I also have no tolerance for alcohol, which makes me dizzy and tired (Not fun? No.)… and I’m pretty sure glamour girls drink. And, right, I’m too immature. No, really, I like Abba SingStar and I own several movies which I mercilessly mock the entire time they are playing… and I like it that way. Maturity? Fabulousness? No thanks, I’ll take childish laughter and enthusiasm any day!

And finally,

Type #5: The Indie Girl

Some of you may already know where this is going… Indie girls can’t play Abba SingStar and like it… they can’t own the movies they mock… and they certainly can’t wear glitter jeans with a pink boat-neck tee and white sneakers (because someone will find that picture, and it will all be over for you). You also have to become a bit of a snob (which I am good at) and know all the cool movies, music, and designers that the rest of the poor bastards out there have never even heard of. I have tried, and in some areas I have succeeded… mostly because by some miracle, almost every time someone would make an obscure reference to something, I would have heard about it exactly two days prior… no joke! In the end though, I knew the truth – I was not cool! And you know what? I’m okay with that.

So there you have it, a myriad of things I am not now, nor will ever be… EVER!

Then what am I, you may ask?

I, my fellow (and female) bloggers, am WEIRD. Yes, that’s right. I have come to accept and even love this about myself and now it is officially time to own it. My name is Amber and I am weird. And proud, bitches!

***

As for those of you who thought I was emo…

You’re wrong. Just becuase I have dark hair and write poetry and pout a lot (that’s just how my face is!) does not mean I am emo. Emo girls don’t like “Mamma Mia!” They’re not allowed.

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Filed under Happiness, I am an Embarrassment to Myself, Mamma Mia Madness, Retail Strife (A.K.A. My Job)

The Littlest Prince

Today was another painfully un-eventful day at work in Touristville, CA.

(Except for the time the emergency alarm went off and we couldn’t find the key to lock the door that would silence it and one of the customers got all bothered and weird and told my co-worker that I had been “very rude.” Yah… except for that…)

The store was moderately busy, I was moderately irritated at being scheduled on a Sunday, and the whole thing was pretty much like any other day at work.

Now, over the past few days I have discovered something particularly useful in helping to keep me awake through the duration of my shift. This thing is Mobile Twitter.

True, Twitter and I have had our ups and downs. We got off to a pretty rocky start, what with my expecting it to be always on top of things, and its total and utter failure to do so. But we stuck with it – developed a rhythm, boundaries (sort of), and a deeper understanding of our own respective quirks. At the moment we are enjoying a period of happiness and adoration (though this could end at any time, as we’re both terribly moody!) The only problem we seem to suffer from is the horrifying thought of ever having to be apart. (Seriously, I often keep my phone next to my pillow, on silent, so that I can wake up to it in the morning. That is how bad it’s gotten.)

While being able to take Twitter with me to work is a huge advantage, it still does not solve the problem of being bored out of my skull all the time… because that would be IMPOSSIBLE. (I will say that it solves the problem about three times out of ten… which may explain why I have unceremoniously taken over your wall the last couple of days… Sorry!)

Yesterday, in one of those dreaded but inevitable moments of boredom, I discovered a toy that was rendered “un-sellable” on account of it’s having fallen apart from within it’s box. This toy was a “Little Prince.” (You may remember him… I twittered about it. Naturally.) The toy is not actually called a  “Little Prince” but a “Frog Prince”… however, seeing as the frog head had already fallen off by the time I discovered him, I decided to rename it.

Aaaanyway, in case you don’t know what a Little Prince is (few do) it is a little toy frog in a cup which miraculously grows into a little toy prince in a cup after adding water and allowing him to sit for 72 hours (I know… he takes a while!) He has a little crown and everything… and, I imagine, is intended to make quite a catch for Thumbelina, as he would still be rather small even at full size.

Naturally, being absolutely delighted with anything that allows us to behave like children, my manager and I decided to grow him… the frog head was lost, but the frog head was merely an illusion to begin with… and we don’t discriminate! So I filled the cup with water (messy… you have to get it all in a little hole!) and placed him on the counter for constant surveillance. Or, half-assed-barely-paying-attention surveillance… but I think you get the idea!

Everything was going along pretty smoothly… he had an ink splotch under his left eye that looked like a shiner (tiny prince vs tiny peasant show-down, perhaps?) and I was too lazy to change his water so he was standing in a sea of green (frog-die)… but other than that, everything was going along according to schedule. Or was it? Little Prince, although appearing to have grown substantially since the previous night, was actually the EXACT SAME SIZE! The cup had magnifying powers, the little demon! It could, being so filled with water, trick the eye into believing that Little Prince had done his part and grown during the night. Apon peering in at the prince from the top of the cup, however, it became clear that he had not. DECEIT. I was so furious at Little Prince for his lying that I barely even protested as Third-Party Coworker carted him off to the microwave for experimental purposes. Perhaps this is what he deserves, I reasoned.

Three minutes later, Little Prince was returned. It did not look good. He had, in fact, exploded. It was… horrible. I cried (not really). There was a funeral (there wasn’t). The Queen came (she didn’t). And as I was staring into his little demolished face, it stuck me – the meaninglessness of it all. True, magnifying himself to appear larger was truly heinous. But hadn’t he always been up-front about how long it would take? He wasn’t going to get there for 72 hours! I had known this! It hadn’t even been 24 hours, though, before I became so impatient that I allowed for his certain death. What was wrong with me? Was I really so careless, so callous, so selfish as to demand more from him than that which he had promised? I couldn’t bare it… it was too much to take.

I hadn’t even remembered to take pictures for a “before and after”….

(Okay, who found all the dirty parts?)

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Filed under Happiness, Love, Retail Strife (A.K.A. My Job)

Losing it

I am at work. There is nothing to do. Someone please please tell me you can hear me screaming! And also tell me absolutely anything funny/interesting/in English to keep me from going completely insane!

The past few days have seen my return to the blogging world. It has also allowed me to realize that, when you leave said world and then suddenly reappear, some people may not still be there to greet you! So to all the people I have mercilessly abandoned in my time of non-blogging despair – I am sorry, and will do my best to comment on all your blogs as soon as I can!

In other news, Gossip Girl is FINALLY new tonight! (Isn’t it?) And although I realize that to some of you this is hardly important (nay, that it will in fact cause you to roll your eyes and mutter something bordering on profane), to others, like me, it has been a long time coming. In the last days of our little GG drought, I have been known to wake up in the middle of the night, unknowingly muttering the names of Chuck and Blair over and over again like lost lovers. Where have they been? And who exactly was I meant to turn to in this time of need? Surely not to real people! In the end though, I must admit that the whole Chuck and Blair, will-they (have sex again, say “I love you”, etc.) or-won’t-they plot-line was getting a little tired. I sincerely hope they have had time enough to work out that little kink.

And then there is my life, which I have posted about to some extent over the course of the weekend. The weekend, however, has yet to be fully covered… so I might be getting to that over the next couple of days… or tonight, if I’m bored, which is likely.

For now though, I will have to attempt to find some form of work to do at work. Monday is such a bitch. (Just kidding, Monday. Please don’t hurt me!)

P.S. I realize I have been using a great deal of italics lately. To the point of excess. And beyond. Is it getting to be a little much? Because even I’m starting to get annoyed.

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Filed under Gossip Girl = Love, Retail Strife (A.K.A. My Job)

One-Day-Weekend Wonder

When you work in retail, you will find that your definition of weekends is just not the same as it used to be. Today was a Saturday, and miraculously I did have the day off! (Not tomorrow though, I have to open the store at 9am on a Sunday – wooh!) So to celebrate, I had an amazing day of doing absolutely nothing, and it was fantastic!

Part one of the wonderful nothing was watching a movie with my brother Drew and mutual friend Alana. Now, it must be said that our version of watching movies involves a lot of talking and very little actual watching. It’s just one of the benefits of being at home and not at the movie theater (where people typically don’t appreciat that kind of behavior!) The movie of the day was “Mamma Mia!” and it was… perfect. For anyone who wants to be able to both mock and enjoy their movies, “Mamma Mia!” is the choice for you!

After that, we headed on down to Ulta, followed by Target, followed by Barnes and Noble, followed by home (the ultimate destination.) I bought a few things as late christmas presents to myself/rewards for doing so little shopping lately (wait…) The first item on my list was a new Con-Air Ionic Hair Dryer with a diffuser attatchment, for my poor, suffering hair. Next was a tried-and-true brand of Shampoo and Conditioner, also for the suffering hair. After that, “Mamma Mia!” on blu-ray (the copy we were watching earlier was sadly not mine to keep.) And to finnish the shopping extravaganza, a copy of New Moon for Edie-girl (we’re exchanging our christmas presents later.)

All in all, it was the perfect day for me and my tired-ass self. Here’s hoping I’m rested enough to wake up for work in the morning! Oh God, I think we’re out of coffee…

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Filed under Fandemonium, Life at Home, Mamma Mia Madness, Musicals and Me, Retail Strife (A.K.A. My Job)

Oh, Doom!

Tomorrow night is New Year’s Eve and I am SO excited… that it’s not Tomorrow night yet!

Working in Touristville, CA may have it’s perks (Hot co-worker anyone?), but mostly it just has many, many un-perks (i.e. hellish events.) One such event takes place tomorrow night, because if Touristville is anything, it is a place for people of questionable taste to get together and stumble around drunk, yelling at anyone and everyone. (Also a place for surprised families to wander around dodging said drunks, but we won’t get into that.)

Every Year, our shop takes part in this horrible event by pitching a tent (like the ones at the State Fair), and selling the most tacky New Year’s Eve trinketry imagineable. People come, try to haggle, fail, yell, etc. It’s quite a show.

Luckily for me, I do not have to work in the tent (which will be outside and freezing); but The Co-worker will be there, which makes me nervous – mostly because this means spending most of the night fighting off the urge to a) jump him, b) bring him a cup of something hot every other minute, c) be the warmth he craves. (Have I mentioned we’re not even dating?) Most of these urges are pretty much unnavoidable since clearly I am attracted to him, but be that as it may, I would much rather have him indoors with me where I can keep an eye on him (I fear for his pretty face around all those drunken loons, possibly armed with legal explosives) and effectively decrease my worries to points a) and c).

Even greater than the fear of possible (unwarrented) separation-anxiety, however, is the fear of actually being sent to The Tent! I am, among other things, terrible at math – and being in the tent means, you guessed it, no cash register! Which means no handy little built-in calculator to magically tell you how much money to give back to the customer so they do not a) yell in your face, b) look really confused, or c) laugh horrendously (we must remember that these people are drunk, after all.) The Tent will not do me any favors, and I hope to God I am not asked to choose between my job and my dignity tomorrow night, because it’s going to be a close call!

Anyway, wish me luck! I promise to do my part by supplying you with as many hellish details as you can handle. Here’s hoping your New Year’s isn’t as lame as mine!

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Filed under I Think I Have a Crush, Lust, Retail Strife (A.K.A. My Job), The Coworker

Notes from the Underground

Tonight I am posting from work. That’s right, I am a bad, bad girl. (Nothing dirty intended) And because of that I am typing right now with a very creepy feeling of anxiety. I swear, at any minute The Boss is going to just miraculously appear, causing me to jump about a foot in the air once I realize that, contrary to my knowledge of his being already at home, he has been reading over my shoulder this entire time. and with that, I think I will just have to try this again from home. The risk is too awful! especialy the jumping part.

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Filed under Retail Strife (A.K.A. My Job)