Not going to miss posting!

6 04 2009

Wait for the edit.  This is a place marker.

EDIT

College discussion postponed until further notice.

Hello, my little blog readers!  Or maybe just “Hi, me!”  How are you?  You want the generic answer or the real one.  We’ll stick with generic because you should probably eventually go to sleep.  Generic it is; I’m fine.  Good, good.  On to the blog post!

I’m going to talk about my work today.  As in my job.  I work as a cashier at a grocery store.  In fear of the whole people’s bosses/future employers searching for people bad-mouthing their jobs/former jobs, I’m not going to tell you all the nitty, gritty details.  However, let me allow that my eyes have been opened to the inner workings of supermarkets.  It was far from what I once thought.

A standard stress of my job, besides freaking out about brainfarts and forgetting how to count, is dealing with angry or creepy customers.  I’m going to veer on the path of creepy in this post.  Take for instance today.  I held eye contact too long and was thanked too enthusiastically by multiple middle aged men.  Sometimes that can be fun, and I just go along with it.  Especially the really cute, look-like-they’re-WWII-vets guys.  The ones I can’t stand are the winkers.  Like, seriously?  Winking old men will NEVER be attractive.  Winking YOUNG men are not attractive.  Winkers of the world, this is addressed to you:  stop the winking.  You’re not helping yourself.

This part is on a different note and far more important.  There are not a lot of minorities in the community that I live in.  i.e.  There are not a lot of African Americans.  In history we’re studying the civil rights movement, and every time a black customer came to my line, it surfaced in my thoughts that not even 40 years ago, this person was considered a second class citizen.  What made me feel worse is how much my environment has conditioned me to single out African Americans.  I wish that I saw people as people, not by their skin color.  But it happens.  It’s almost like I make a stronger effort to be pleasant with them as if it could redeem all the hatred they’ve had to put up with from my own race.  I don’t know.  This was just something that was floating around in my mind.

The traffic died around seven so I wandered up to the front of my aisle, and I found a present to send to Sanne.  I have to annotate it with sticky notes — kinda pumped to do that.

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