Smile

Splatter

I'm finally leaving. It's seven at night and I walked into the building at five a.m. I was screamed at nine times today. Customers were snappy more times than I can count. The cashiers that I manage were snappy more times than I can count. And the only reason I had to stay late was because of call-outs. There are always call outs. I'm not a good manager and I know it. When I'm nice, the cashiers don't listen to me. When I'm assertive and no-nonsense, the cashiers don't listen to me. Every interaction feels like a little power game. I hate it. I hate it so much. I wish I could relax. I wish I wasn't always being observed, being watched for some sign of weakness. And I wish, I wish, that it wasn't so loud in here.

At least Diana came in for her shift. Without a closing head cashier, I'd have been stuck here until at least eleven. Which would suck because I have to open again tomorrow. I've had many nights like that. Get home by midnight and know that I have to get up again at four, so I don't even bother going to bed. I just sit in front of the tv until it's time to leave again for work. I never remember what I watch. It's more like I stare at the flickering screen and enjoy just not being watched for a few hours. I can never relax inside of the store. I can never feel okay. Customers are always coming up to me upset about whatever I've been doing. Once I was just standing at self-checkout with my hands on my hips. I have to stand there for hours and there are no mats at the self-checkout. My back and feet hurt and for just a second, standing with my hands on my hips relieved some of the pain. And an old man-isn't it always an old man-came over to smirk at me and mimic my posture. He put his hands on his hips and put his feet in the same position that I had mine. It made me so angry. I was only standing in a way that was comfortable. So I ignored him. Just pretended I didn't see him at all. Until I think he started to feel embarrassed, because he dropped his hands and sheepishly asked me where to find the water heaters. I answered him and he walked away and I didn't take my hands off my hips the whole time. Maybe that sounds petty but I've spent so many years trying to please customers, trying to adjust my behavior to keep them from being mean to me or making fun of me. Nothing works. Retail is like being a court jester for the general public. I hate it. I hate being laughed at.

And I hate being yelled at.

I hate how noisy it is and I hate the long hours.

So, I should quit, right? Well, what else would I do with myself. I have a degree in music theory. What an idiotic degree. So it's retail for me. I've looked around for other jobs. Well, years ago, I looked around. I've applied. I've only ever gotten rejections and it makes me unbearably sad, just so unbearably sad that I'm stuck here. These long hours, these horrible customers, these cashiers that fight me on everything: Why do I gotta go to garden? The pro cashier makes more than me, I ain't covering pro. I need tomorrow off. I came in early, why can't I leave early? I'm not working with him; he's always bothering me. Stocking candy ain't my job.

The biggest problem is that the more I try to accommodate them, the more entitled they get. I used to give people a choice of which register they wanted to work at when I had enough coverage. But they started expecting it and when I didn't have enough coverage and needed people in specific places, they argued with me and made a problem. It's the same with breaks. I used to give people a choice of when they took their breaks. Then they started thinking they could take a break whenever they wanted. Laurie at returns is the worst. Because the door is right there, she's always going out to smoke when it isn't her break. I sort of took care of that by telling her if she takes a smoke break she doesn't get a fifteen covered. And then I stuck to it. The first day I did catch her stepping outside to smoke, I told her I wasn't sending anyone to cover because she already had a break. Sometimes it seems like that took care of the problem. But sometimes I wonder if she isn't just sneaking out the tool rental exit over by the mall. It's not like I give a fuck. It's the asms who always get on me because there's a line at returns and the service desk women complain that they have to cover because Laurie keeps disappearing. Like do I not have enough to do? Am I not doing enough? I have to chase around a woman twenty years older than me and cajole her into doing her job?