thrifting senses

Fuck you Billy

Amelia

sometimes i wonder if everyone around the world knows about their dreams, their life and how they are going to live. Because I see people and it feels like they got it all figured it out. Med school, business, lawyers...man, i don't know. They have their own stories, their own life. They know what they wanna be and they do it, there's something so graceful about a person wanting and knowing and doing the things. While me... i'm just, applying to work at this thrift store.

"name?"
"uh..Amelia."
"age?"
"i'm...." should i lie? i don't know if it's normal to be almost 30 and work here.
"I'm...23." 3 years younger. I deserve to lie for all of the years I've wasted in Billy, fuck you Billy.
"what are your goals? why did you choose hopeforclothes thrift store?"
"I...love old clothes." lie. "and I believe thrifting is good for the economy." half lie, i don't care about economy but it is true that it's good according to researchers from 2000 year. Or was it 2002? god knows. The manager looks at me as if I'm lying, which I am but how would he know?
"alright, it's been quite a long time since we had a second worker. Our first one, Henry...will come after like 4 months or so he said...and you look like you don't do weeds nor any sketchy things young adults do these days...so, you're in."

wow. I got it?

"Oh wow, thank you."
he nods and says, "Just make sure that the clothes still feels fresh, even if it had been worn by a man who had penis infection and balding and going through divorce for the third time in his 40....also question."
"yes."
"Amelia, what will you do if a customer wants a piece of crop top in 8 dollars when the actual price is 10 dollars?"
"oh, um..." quick, i know it's just two dollars difference but i also think it's a baiting question. "10 dollars, 10 dollars. Sorry mate can't give you any less than that?" i say, in a sing songy voice.
"Perfect, NO bargaining." he says as he points to a sign where it says customer rules: no bargaining, no eating.

He gives me the keys and shows me the restroom, stocking is also something that happens twice in a week. And before ending the conversation; he says, "Nobody likes thrifting anymore. Sure, there's people but...it's just not there."

I guess it's true. But I mean, can you blame them? I don't think it's rational for anyone to prefer an old piece of cloth worn out and abandoned by someone rather than buying something totally new, totally made only for them. It's a way for financially struggling people to ease on it, there's a good point there. But I also think financially struggling people deserves clothes that are only there to be worn by them, only them.

Rich people...they're the stars of the world, for them, world is beautiful. Live beautifully, life is beautiful all that bullshit only exists for them. Or maybe I'm just a hater, hating things. A hater who found a job at an old thrift store with old clothes, abandoned and alone. I'm talking about the old clothes, of course.

...

After closing the store and making sure I was not gonna get fired the second day, I choose to treat myself with a burrito and beer. I was not reckless, I was not being myself. I am myself in my head but outside, I was just some thrift store worker. Who's nice but not too nice, just another thrift store worker. I'm acting, performing in eyes of people who doesn't give a shit about me and cares about old clothes. And at the end of the day, I was not reckless, I was not myself.

You will never be loved if you're being yourself.

My dad said. When I was 15. I didn't really know what he meant exactly on that moment. I guess, now I know. Now I believe. But I'm sure he would be proud of me when he finds out I got myself a job and I was not reckless, I was not being myself and I got myself a job.

I wish I could tell him. He left, it wasn't surprising though. Mom was cheating, dad was cheating. But he left and mom stopped hanging out with the man she cheated with and found herself another guy. Billy.

Billy is...no, I'm not gonna talk about Billy in my head right after I'm now employed after a really long time. Fuck you Billy.

Okay, going back to thrifting. Is it a job I've always wished for? of course not. I wanted to be a doctor, a lawyer, someone with good money, good home and good romantic partner. But life only makes very few people the bearer of their own dreams coming true, that's okay. And thrifting, it's a job I got at the last day of looking. I thought I was gonna be a waitress at this delicious burrito place (the one I'm eating right now yes) but turns out I'm a bad burrito maker. Now with this thrift store, it's something. I hope this something helps me put a roof over my head longer than 3 months, 5 if I'm lucky. I still don't know how I landed this job. It feels...like I'm capable of few good things, like I can do it. But I really don't wanna jinx myself. Last time I did it, dad slept me and kicked me out of the house for weeks straight. Oh god, this wasn't to be this depressing. Forget that I said that. But anyways, I don't really care about it. But I can always pretend to care about it as long as I can go.

I wonder if I could have got this job if I hadn't lie about my age.