(Sur)realism • Calum Hood

o n e

I've always hated working. No matter what it is. Cleaning, writing, running, reading - if you force me to do it...I hate it. Even things I like, if you make me do it, and refer to it as "work" I automatically hate it.

Take, for example my new job at the mall. The store I work in, I love. I love it with all my heart and about sixty percent (and that's a lot!) of my wardrobe was bought there. I told myself, "if only I could find a job here, then I'll be happy!" Sure, my manager is shitty, but that's the only downside.

Well, on the brightside...I landed a job right here in H&M. And now, since it's called 'working at H&M,' I no longer want anything to do with it.

I don't really like my job, but I'd never really say I would quit it. It's nice pay for someone like me, and it's a shop where I get to meet a lot of interesting people.

My coworkers are very interesting, with their flamboyantly dyed hair and cartoonish wardrobes, but I'm used to it. What I'm talking about are the people who come in, that's who I'm interested in.

Call me creepy, but I'm a self-proclaimed people watcher. It's a pastime that keeps me sane at work, especially when some of the customers are so damn rude. Some people are in the store for hours, some are there a mere five minutes. Some of them know exactly what they're doing, and some of them need all the help they can get.

My favorite kind of people to check out at the register are the people who read my name tag and call me by name. It's refreshing, even though the only people who really do that are upper-class, middle-aged women (who I've never really been a fan of.)

Anyway, the fact is...I hate work. And that's why I vowed never to make painting my full time job, even though my university's Art Professor says it very well could be.

I just don't want to lose interest in another thing I love.