Why, exactly, did I agree to go on this March of Dimes walk? It's my effing day off. I want to sleep. I don't want to wear an ugly forest green shirt advertising Matt's firm and walk around a park for the benefit of babies (read: entities I wish no goodwill towards).
“Greetings Everyone, this is story-time by V, otherwise known as Vivian and I am going to tell you the story of why you should never work in retail. So, I come in this morning - theoretically I am opening the store by myself, my coworker isn't supposed to be in till eleven -um- but at some point my boss shows up, I guess she had some paperwork to do. So, she's at the computer - I'm at the cash register and I check out this completely benign fairly - you know - silent old,-older woman. Sort of, you know, sweet grandma-looking type. She buys two hardcover books, one is something about the Georgia ebb-tide low-tide, and she goes on to tell me (:high pitched elderly southern woman impersonation voice:) "Oh my grandson lives here and I'm buyin' this for him". And I'm like alright-whatever I don't care, old lady, sure. So, in addition to that she buys some sort of - one of those books I assume no one will ever buy and I was really shocked by it - like one of those weird, giant, picture books, hardcover, world war two images - but who cares, you can see this stuff for free why would you buy a book, I don't know. -um-. So she checks out and everything is going smoothly, normally - she starts for the door - about halfway to the door she turns around and holds up the world war two book and says "There's an interesting thing about this man" and we're like "oh..., what". She precedes to tell us that he apparently wrote a book that he withheld from publication until after his death, and the woman explains "oh because he probably didn't want to - you know - deal with the flak". My boss and I are like "Oh, ...why is that". Because the book he wrote was apparently in defense of everything Americans have ever done because clearly Native Americans weren't using the land to it's full potential anyway and they were just using it to kill each other. So, we did them a favor by wiping them out and taking their land. At this point I start to realize I'm going to be of no use because I'm not very good in pretending to be cordial when I want to rip your jugular out. So I sort of wandered away such that I could still hear her but that I didn't have to, you know, respond. So the old woman continues talking to my boss explaining "Yes and he also wrote about how those blacks really just need to get over. I mean, if it weren't for us they would still be living in Africa, and what ever happens in Africa. They'd be living in poverty in a third world country, their would be disease, they would be dying, their lives would be worth nothing. We did them a favor by bringing them over here where at least they have a life." And the whole time my boss is like "Hmm, huh, hmmm". So finally the woman leaves and I come back out and I'm just speechless. And, :sigh:... I try to go on with my work but about ten minutes later I turn to my boss and I'm like "What is it about me that makes you think I would agree with you- just look at me, what makes you think that I would agree with you". And my boss relates , apparently one of her explanations about our job which is fairly true is: You don't go into a Dillard's and say things like that, you go into a bookstore and say things like that. We are the target of crazies who want to monologue about their lives. Now having monologued about my own I suppose I fit right in. If anyone feels the need to transcribe this I'd be incredibly grateful because I'm lazy - alright bye.”
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count_to_seven's journal
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