Rumination on situational assholery.
Okay, the thing about working at any low skill level sales job, I've learned through my vast experience with dead end jobs, is the division between day crew and night crew. During the weekdays, things are chill, no matter where you work (mall, video store, walk-in salon, fast food, fine dining, bar, grocery store). It's just slow. Most people are at their jobs and have no time to pop into yours.
You get different kinds of people in these positions, too. I should know. You get the mid-twenties to thirties crowd who crashed out of the nest at eighteen or nineteen, got a job, and figured out that it worked out okay and they don't need to look any further. You get the people who have no ambition, just secret little aspirations that they likely aren't going to do fuck about.
In short, these people are fucking broken. So they don't really get worked up about much, if you know what I mean. They take the good with the bad with glazed eyes and an almost-convincingly-warm smile.
I actually fall into the above category. But I also fall into the next one, because I've yet to accept that the secretly beloved machinations on my word processor don't actually equate to proactive. (I'm almost there, though. Have no fear.)
The night crew.
Students.
It's high school all over at work, isn't it? It's so-and-so fucking so-and-so and some-other-bitch getting her panties in a twist about it and that-one-nice-quiet-guy quietly weeping in the corner because no one ever notices that he's got love to share, too.
Okay, so I manage to steer clear from the personal drama. There's still me getting into a verbal cat fight with another girl about why she feels so inclined to be such a raging cunt all the time, though. Not exactly what you would call chill. And I tell you what, that shit would never happen during a day shift. Not only would I not be bothered by her stick-up-the-ass-itude, her baditude, but she most likely wouldn't be a cunt during the day, because there's vaporized muscle relaxers in the air vents or something. Saltpeter in the coffee. Trytophan in the lard.
So the thing is, there's me on day crew. And me on day crew's a girl who laughs, who listens, who smiles a lot and inquires after how people are doing and wants to hear about their day and their exciting new romance and whatever.
Then there's me on night crew. Bitch don't wanna hear it. Not any of it. I don't want to stand around and chat and I don't want to look at the text message some creeper sent you or hear about some crazy Youtube shit you looked up or how drunk you were at the bowling alley.
I want you to shut up and leave me alone and please only disturb me if you happen to notice that my head is on fire. That's the only exception. If I find myself improbably ablaze, you can step in. Otherwise, can it.
So, uh.
KU Basketball lost their number one ranking last night. The town is abuzz.