The longer I go without writing, the more my thoughts pile up in my head until I literally feel weighed down with worry. The worst part is once I try to write some of what I'm feeling, everything is too tangled up to pull apart and put down. It feels weird to go so long without writing, like I'm missing something from my routine, like I'm missing something from myself. It's like not brushing my teeth for a week and then discovering I had no hand to do it with in the first place.
I feel like I've been busy although I'm not sure if it's legitimate business. I've been reading a lot lately. I even managed to tackle two books at once at one point, which is a pretty big accomplishment for me because I can't really multi-task when reading. I'm a one book kind of guy, most of the time. If I'm not, some of the characters start book jumping, along with situations, until I'm utterly confused, unable to tell one story from the other. Plus, I can't read more than a few chapters of any book, no matter how interesting, without falling asleep. You'd think this would be a good night-time routine but it doesn't necessarily work that way. It only seems to happen in the middle of the day. I'm on my bed reading and suddenly I'll wake up two hours on top of a drool-stained page. People don't like to share their books with me.
I've also been trying to exercise more. It's horrible I tell you. I hate exercising and I always have. Even when I was at my thinnest, I hated what I had to do to be that size. I never felt those endorphins and never had more energy afterward. And it sucks because I have to be incredibly consistent. If I take one day off, it makes it all the harder to get going again the next day. But, I've been trying and that's the first step. I've collected quite the selection of exercise programs over the years and so I should have a good variety of workout routines to choose from without getting bored. Right now I'm doing one of those walk five miles in your living room workouts. It's pretty easy, which is a good thing. I don't want to get too burned out too quickly.
The only other problem is my diet. It's funny how I can do really well with dieting and then never exercise or be really good at exercising and then eat garbage. I can't seem to find a good balance of both. I know a big part of it is because my head and my heart just aren't in it. I think at this point it's just easier for me to wallow in my sadness, to allow myself to be a slave to my gluttonous desires. I can't seem to get my mind to focus on the larger picture, to realize that these small sacrifices should pay off in a big way later on. I guess I'm so miserable that today is the big picture, that I am just barely scraping by, am just trying to get through one day at a time. Kind of sad.
I feel I've been going through these turbulent shifts in awareness and ignorance lately. All my shattered convictions come back from time to time, taped up and tender but ready to be received. And I say, "Yes, I think I can believe in this again" but it never lasts too long. Some days I feel God is good and other times I think He doesn't care and sometimes I struggle with whether He exists at all. Some times I feel something good happening inside of me, as if my heart is showing signs of life again. It shifts around inside me, hoping to find a comfortable place to beat and grow but those moments are fleeting. I feel like I want to love but it seems so hard, so incomprehensible to my screwed up mind. Maybe all I really want is a connection.
I still struggle with being an ex-vegetarian. I've managed to make it a few days at a time without thinking about the harm I'm doing but it still comes up often. It's weird because it seems like I shouldn't make such a big deal about it. I think one of the reasons why it is is because it deals with food, which has always been a big deal and the other reason is when I found my Christianity crumbling, vegetarianism was almost like a substitute for me. It was something to believe in, something I could feel good about being involved in. It was comforting in some ways, made me feel like I belonged to something, that I was doing something for the greater good. If my views on food weren't so screwed up, and if I wasn't so fat and vain, I'd probably go back.
Am I the only one who feels haunted by people? And I don't mean former lovers. I mean just everyday people that come and go from your life. It's not that these people weren't special to me but it's not like I had this incredibly deep connection with them. Okay, maybe some of them I did but I can't seem to let them go or allow their memory to leave me in peace. I still think about my rude ex-roommate and all the girls who left me for other guys (or other girls). I always wonder what I did, what I said to make them just not care anymore. And I wonder if they even realize the profound effect they've had on me, how they've shaped the way I see people and why they are the reason I don't think love can work with me. All because they simply cut me off, these people that I thought would never leave me, people I thought were in my life like oxygen. But they are the reason I don't breathe.
I used to be one of those people who never understood others who swore off love because of a few bad relationships. "How dumb," I'd say. "Just because one or two people hurt you doesn't mean you should close off all potential love in the future." But, now I think I get it a little bit better. Sometimes it's a deliberate attempt at shielding yourself and other times it's just a subconscious bout of self-preservation. And as for me, I don't feel so much like I'm trying to protect myself as much as I just feel too exhausted to deal with it all, the way people can be so flaky and moody, the back and forth of jokes and jeers, the constant dance of building up and tearing down each other. Uh, human interactions. How do you all do it?
I think the only love I have left is in my imagination. In fact, I'm falling in love with a fantasy that will never actually happen. And you know what? I'm okay with it. I don't know whether that is comforting or devastating.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
ana-sthetic
Raising my shirt above my nipples, I inspected my torso in the bathroom lights. Seeing the swooping shadows slice across my skin always made me smile. It meant progress. It meant the fat was melting away and allowing my ribs to show through the pallid skin.
Every morning, after peeing, I'd raise my shirt and check on my shrinking frame. It felt good to see those ribs. It didn't feel good to diet or exercise but it was nice when my pants fit, when my chest was flatter, when I could run my hand down my stomach to smooth out my shirt and could feel the cool metal of my belt buckle without the lump of fat resting on top.
It was a struggle to not eat my favorite foods, denying myself sweets, getting up and exercising, waiting, wondering when that promised energy was going to kick in. It was difficult, frustrating and exhausting. Yet, the presence of the bones helped me get through another hungry day. I loved food but I loved the feeling of being thinner as well. I think, although I love food and thinness equally, I disliked myself, thus the food always won out. Because I didn't like myself, I didn't take care of myself, didn't discipline myself, let myself go in more ways than just the physical.
One of the reasons I was able to lose weight was because I felt I was doing it for something. I had a goal, some kind of image in my head of what I wanted to look like and how it would benefit me. When I was in high school, I always had a fantasy that I would transform myself over the summer and come back and be different, thinner, better. I didn't want to be known only as the fat could who could draw. I wanted my peers to see me in a way they hadn't before, see me as someone who was desirable, handsome. Approachable. And the summer before my senior year, I did it. And I was noticed. And it felt good. But, I still had a long way to go.
Community college rolled around and I began to look to the future once more. I knew where I wanted to pursue further education and I once again went on a diet and exercise kick, losing more weight than I did in high school and becoming the thinnest I had ever been in ten or so years. I did it because I was preparing myself for real college, preparing myself for people and projects. I knew college would be such a huge transition filled with enough pressures and I didn't want my physical appearance to be a hindrance to the large amounts of socializing I was planning on doing.
I was thin and felt good by the time I got to SCAD. I slipped up during the first quarter, falling victim to the clichéd freshmen fifteen but I was back on track after winter break. I kept myself accountable and started vlogging about my weight loss and checked my ribs every morning in the mirror. I weighed myself every week. I went to the gym with my roommates. I had class and three different projects to work on at any given time so there wasn't much time to eat. There was even a time when I severely restricted my food intake. I didn't exactly starve myself but I was pretty close to it. It didn't disturb me, though, because I felt good at the end of the day. Yeah, I was hungry and tired but I felt I had finally managed some kind of mental control over myself.
And then I graduated and came back home and let myself go again. With Mom's Southern cooking and no more classes or a job, I sat at home and managed to undo all the years of hard work, slowly swelling back to my high school hugeness.
Of course, it wasn't apparent to me how large I was getting as I sat around all day in elastic sleep pants. It only became obvious when I tried to actually go out and do something and put on jeans and couldn't button them. How could I get so big so fast without even noticing? I stopped vlogging, stopped weighing, stopped lifting my shirt in front of the mirror. I lost all accountability. I also discovered Ben & Jerry's brownie cheesecake ice cream, so that didn't help matters.
I've lost and gained weight so many times now that it all seems like this large smear in my memory. I can't differentiate days from doughnuts. And I find myself at the bottom, yet again, looking up that long ladder of weight loss and wondering if I can make that climb one more time. I'm not sure if I can.
Of course, not having a job wasn't the reason why I gained the weight back. Well, not directly. I mean, it was the reason I gained weight but not because I was bored. It was because I was depressed. College turned out to be a giant wreck of three years. And with no job and all that time to reflect on my tumultuous time there, I ate to cope. Despite all efforts over the years to control my eating habits and exercise regularly, I never learned to eat for nutrition instead of filling a void. When it came to food, I suppressed the physical act of eating and completely ignored the emotional baggage that made me binge.
And for months now I've been saying I'm going to lose the weight again, that I'm going to go through that arduous weight loss journey once more. But, I haven't because I know it's hard. I've been there before and knowing how difficult it is makes it all the harder to get started. It's difficult to learn how to deal with my feelings through methods other than food. Nothing I've tried seems as satisfying. Admittedly, I haven't tried very hard.
But you know what's not hard? Pizza, pasta, cookies, sweet stuff. Cheese. Bread. Starches and carbs. It's comforting. It's my anesthetic against the everyday external conflicts and incessant internal torture. And I know it's temporary and ultimately more damaging but sometimes I'm so hurt and angry that I just want to stop the pain in that moment and I don't care how I do it. Fix it now, figure it out later. Just stop the pain. Just get rid of the sadness. I'll deal with the consequences another time. But, I don't. I deal with the consequences with more food. With inactivity. With hating myself just a little bit more. Instead of wanting to put out the pain, I should have just sucked it up and dealt with it. I guess a little hurt never killed anyone but what if you're already dead? I think it hits me harder. I also think I'm incredibly weak and give in to way too much way too soon.
I need something else. I need someone to care. I need to care about myself. I need to know that I am worth working on. That I am not stuck in mediocrity. I need to climb out of my festering funk. It's easy to fall, to let your problems snowball, to just go with gravity. It's hard to stop mid-fall. It's as simple as catching yourself but when you don't have any hands or feet you just continue to tumble.
I'd like to one day be able to see my ribs again. Not break them with bad habits.
Every morning, after peeing, I'd raise my shirt and check on my shrinking frame. It felt good to see those ribs. It didn't feel good to diet or exercise but it was nice when my pants fit, when my chest was flatter, when I could run my hand down my stomach to smooth out my shirt and could feel the cool metal of my belt buckle without the lump of fat resting on top.
It was a struggle to not eat my favorite foods, denying myself sweets, getting up and exercising, waiting, wondering when that promised energy was going to kick in. It was difficult, frustrating and exhausting. Yet, the presence of the bones helped me get through another hungry day. I loved food but I loved the feeling of being thinner as well. I think, although I love food and thinness equally, I disliked myself, thus the food always won out. Because I didn't like myself, I didn't take care of myself, didn't discipline myself, let myself go in more ways than just the physical.
One of the reasons I was able to lose weight was because I felt I was doing it for something. I had a goal, some kind of image in my head of what I wanted to look like and how it would benefit me. When I was in high school, I always had a fantasy that I would transform myself over the summer and come back and be different, thinner, better. I didn't want to be known only as the fat could who could draw. I wanted my peers to see me in a way they hadn't before, see me as someone who was desirable, handsome. Approachable. And the summer before my senior year, I did it. And I was noticed. And it felt good. But, I still had a long way to go.
Community college rolled around and I began to look to the future once more. I knew where I wanted to pursue further education and I once again went on a diet and exercise kick, losing more weight than I did in high school and becoming the thinnest I had ever been in ten or so years. I did it because I was preparing myself for real college, preparing myself for people and projects. I knew college would be such a huge transition filled with enough pressures and I didn't want my physical appearance to be a hindrance to the large amounts of socializing I was planning on doing.
I was thin and felt good by the time I got to SCAD. I slipped up during the first quarter, falling victim to the clichéd freshmen fifteen but I was back on track after winter break. I kept myself accountable and started vlogging about my weight loss and checked my ribs every morning in the mirror. I weighed myself every week. I went to the gym with my roommates. I had class and three different projects to work on at any given time so there wasn't much time to eat. There was even a time when I severely restricted my food intake. I didn't exactly starve myself but I was pretty close to it. It didn't disturb me, though, because I felt good at the end of the day. Yeah, I was hungry and tired but I felt I had finally managed some kind of mental control over myself.
And then I graduated and came back home and let myself go again. With Mom's Southern cooking and no more classes or a job, I sat at home and managed to undo all the years of hard work, slowly swelling back to my high school hugeness.
Of course, it wasn't apparent to me how large I was getting as I sat around all day in elastic sleep pants. It only became obvious when I tried to actually go out and do something and put on jeans and couldn't button them. How could I get so big so fast without even noticing? I stopped vlogging, stopped weighing, stopped lifting my shirt in front of the mirror. I lost all accountability. I also discovered Ben & Jerry's brownie cheesecake ice cream, so that didn't help matters.
I've lost and gained weight so many times now that it all seems like this large smear in my memory. I can't differentiate days from doughnuts. And I find myself at the bottom, yet again, looking up that long ladder of weight loss and wondering if I can make that climb one more time. I'm not sure if I can.
Of course, not having a job wasn't the reason why I gained the weight back. Well, not directly. I mean, it was the reason I gained weight but not because I was bored. It was because I was depressed. College turned out to be a giant wreck of three years. And with no job and all that time to reflect on my tumultuous time there, I ate to cope. Despite all efforts over the years to control my eating habits and exercise regularly, I never learned to eat for nutrition instead of filling a void. When it came to food, I suppressed the physical act of eating and completely ignored the emotional baggage that made me binge.
And for months now I've been saying I'm going to lose the weight again, that I'm going to go through that arduous weight loss journey once more. But, I haven't because I know it's hard. I've been there before and knowing how difficult it is makes it all the harder to get started. It's difficult to learn how to deal with my feelings through methods other than food. Nothing I've tried seems as satisfying. Admittedly, I haven't tried very hard.
But you know what's not hard? Pizza, pasta, cookies, sweet stuff. Cheese. Bread. Starches and carbs. It's comforting. It's my anesthetic against the everyday external conflicts and incessant internal torture. And I know it's temporary and ultimately more damaging but sometimes I'm so hurt and angry that I just want to stop the pain in that moment and I don't care how I do it. Fix it now, figure it out later. Just stop the pain. Just get rid of the sadness. I'll deal with the consequences another time. But, I don't. I deal with the consequences with more food. With inactivity. With hating myself just a little bit more. Instead of wanting to put out the pain, I should have just sucked it up and dealt with it. I guess a little hurt never killed anyone but what if you're already dead? I think it hits me harder. I also think I'm incredibly weak and give in to way too much way too soon.
I need something else. I need someone to care. I need to care about myself. I need to know that I am worth working on. That I am not stuck in mediocrity. I need to climb out of my festering funk. It's easy to fall, to let your problems snowball, to just go with gravity. It's hard to stop mid-fall. It's as simple as catching yourself but when you don't have any hands or feet you just continue to tumble.
I'd like to one day be able to see my ribs again. Not break them with bad habits.
Monday, May 2, 2011
water cooler crumbling
As if work doesn't suck enough, all the good people are leaving and moving on to better jobs. Some of the bad people are, too.
One of my favorite coworkers called me last Sunday and told me she's turned in her notice. She found a job pertaining to her degree so it's definitely a good thing. For her. I mean, I do want to be happy for her and the grain of non-selfishness within me is happy for her but it sucks that I'll be losing someone I enjoy working with. So many people who work there are negative and manipulative and she wasn't about any of that. She clocked in, did her job, no b.s., and left. She was also just a good girl in general. And I'll probably never see her again.
It seems the trend with me and girls is they'll communicate with me for as long as we are placed in a certain situation together, such as work or school. I met a lot of great girls in college and as soon as our classes together were over, I didn't hear much from them again. Same with when they'd get a boyfriend/husband. The husband thing I can understand a bit more but it just kind of sucks because I always think we have a good thing going and then I find out it wasn't good enough for them to hold on to me.
On the other end of the coworker spectrum, one of my least favorite coworkers also found a job. Once again, I'm conflicted. As much as I should be happy to be rid of her (and believe me, it is a relief), the circumstances surrounding her departure are less than savory. Not only was she one of the most worthless employees I've ever had the misfortune of encountering, she also wasn't that great of a person. Well, she comes bouncing into work one day saying she found a manager position at another job. After I shat myself, the jealousy kicked in. She obviously lied during her interview. Like, I'm not joking when I say she was a raging loser at her job. Even the managers knew she was useless and expressed that often. So, for her to get a manager position at another job over me is a real kick in the nuts.
It's not even so much that she got a better job than me but that she just isn't deserving of one and I feel like I am. I work my butt off everyday and it's thankless and exhausting and stagnant. Where's my opportunity to grow, to gain new experience and a raise? I know I'm sounding bratty and selfish and that life isn't fair. I've heard it a million times but it still sucks and I just have to express how I feel about it. It's hard enough filling out application after application and getting my hopes up that this will finally be the chance to break away from retail hell and then I never hear anything not even an interview, and yet this chick who never did anything and never had any responsibilities (because no one trusted her) weasels her way through and now she's happy and I have to witness it. Heck, I've gotten associate of the month twice and associate of the year and I've only been there eight months. That's got to say something about my work ethic but I guess no one seems to see that.
And she will be replaced by more mediocre workers. And my favorite coworker will be as well because quality people like her don't stay here in this area. They move on to bigger and better things as soon as they can. The rest is just trash and our company sweeps them right into the doors, slaps a name badge on them and let's them loose on the public. And I guess that makes me a little trashy, too, since I'm also here. Although I did try. I did to to college. Even did well at it. But grades don't matter when it's content and creativity employers want to see. Things I don't possess anymore. But, I gave it a good shot. So maybe I'm not so much trashy as just a little bit unpolished.
I see so many high school and college students treat the job like it's unimportant. And maybe to them it is. It's even unimportant to me but I don't treat it like that. Yeah, I hate this job but I also have a responsibility to do a good job. People rely on me. And I try to do every job to the best of my ability, no matter how invested I may or may not be in it. But these kids just swoop through and don't take it seriously and it's frustrating because I have to pick up their slack but I'm also quite jealous because they can be so laid back about it all. For them, this job is just pocket money until they go to college or until they finish college and get a good job. It doesn't matter if they don't do a great job because they don't plan on being there too long anyway. I don't have that luxury. I have student loans. I have other bills. And I can't screw around and risk losing my job. I can't be care-free. I was raised to take jobs seriously so it does come natural to me but I also don't have a choice like the rest of them.
Size, straighten, colorize. Watch as customers destroy a stack of shirts. Clean up after them. Watch it happen again. Ask every customer if they want to fill out for a credit card. Ask them for their e-mail address at the end of the transaction. Ask them for their zip code. Tell them about our survey and beg them to rate us a five so the district manager will be happy. Offer to order something for them if they can't find it in the store. Even if they do find it in the store, mention we can order anything in the store in multiple sizes and colors anyway (and when we do try to order something for them, it is usually out of stock online as well as in the store). Size, straighten, colorize again. Watch as more customers ruin an hour of straightening in three minutes. Check fitting rooms every thirty minutes. Get change for coworkers. Size. Greet every customer in your department. Create conversation with them. Straighten. Just offer. Colorize. Help the other departments straighten their stuff. Call a manager for help if you have more than three people in line. They show up ten minutes later after you've checked everyone out and squeezed as much personal information from them as possible. Offer them magazine subscriptions at the end of the transaction. On their receipt, highlight how much they've saved. Colorize again. Straighten again. Measure clueless people for dress shirts. Watch as they unpin and unbutton dress shirt after dress shirt, try them on, decide they don't want them. Fold and pin them back. Straighten. Don't forget to greet and smile. Return clothes even if they reek of smoke or are stained. Return even if their receipt is expired or they don't have one. Return anything because the customer cannot be unhappy. Show them it is okay to be irresponsible as we'll take care of them anyway. Be nice to them and show them they can take advantage of us and knock down a stack of shirts because no one will stop them. And the new thing is we are encouraged to say, "It was a pleasure serving you today." Some higher up got that trick from Chick-fil-A because customers were apparently more satisfied when they were told it was a pleasure to be served. As if putting up with their crap wasn't demeaning enough, we know have to let them know how much of a pleasure it was to endure their halitosis and ignorance. Gosh, the company is taking tips from a fast food joint now. We're doing so well. Size again. Straighten again. Put up with bad attitudes and body odor. Feel like crying. Feel like screaming. Feel like killing. Go home. Do it again the next day. And somewhere in there, try not to lose your mind. Good luck with that.
And now, I don't even have anyone good to work with anymore. So, it's just going to get worse.
One of my favorite coworkers called me last Sunday and told me she's turned in her notice. She found a job pertaining to her degree so it's definitely a good thing. For her. I mean, I do want to be happy for her and the grain of non-selfishness within me is happy for her but it sucks that I'll be losing someone I enjoy working with. So many people who work there are negative and manipulative and she wasn't about any of that. She clocked in, did her job, no b.s., and left. She was also just a good girl in general. And I'll probably never see her again.
It seems the trend with me and girls is they'll communicate with me for as long as we are placed in a certain situation together, such as work or school. I met a lot of great girls in college and as soon as our classes together were over, I didn't hear much from them again. Same with when they'd get a boyfriend/husband. The husband thing I can understand a bit more but it just kind of sucks because I always think we have a good thing going and then I find out it wasn't good enough for them to hold on to me.
On the other end of the coworker spectrum, one of my least favorite coworkers also found a job. Once again, I'm conflicted. As much as I should be happy to be rid of her (and believe me, it is a relief), the circumstances surrounding her departure are less than savory. Not only was she one of the most worthless employees I've ever had the misfortune of encountering, she also wasn't that great of a person. Well, she comes bouncing into work one day saying she found a manager position at another job. After I shat myself, the jealousy kicked in. She obviously lied during her interview. Like, I'm not joking when I say she was a raging loser at her job. Even the managers knew she was useless and expressed that often. So, for her to get a manager position at another job over me is a real kick in the nuts.
It's not even so much that she got a better job than me but that she just isn't deserving of one and I feel like I am. I work my butt off everyday and it's thankless and exhausting and stagnant. Where's my opportunity to grow, to gain new experience and a raise? I know I'm sounding bratty and selfish and that life isn't fair. I've heard it a million times but it still sucks and I just have to express how I feel about it. It's hard enough filling out application after application and getting my hopes up that this will finally be the chance to break away from retail hell and then I never hear anything not even an interview, and yet this chick who never did anything and never had any responsibilities (because no one trusted her) weasels her way through and now she's happy and I have to witness it. Heck, I've gotten associate of the month twice and associate of the year and I've only been there eight months. That's got to say something about my work ethic but I guess no one seems to see that.
And she will be replaced by more mediocre workers. And my favorite coworker will be as well because quality people like her don't stay here in this area. They move on to bigger and better things as soon as they can. The rest is just trash and our company sweeps them right into the doors, slaps a name badge on them and let's them loose on the public. And I guess that makes me a little trashy, too, since I'm also here. Although I did try. I did to to college. Even did well at it. But grades don't matter when it's content and creativity employers want to see. Things I don't possess anymore. But, I gave it a good shot. So maybe I'm not so much trashy as just a little bit unpolished.
I see so many high school and college students treat the job like it's unimportant. And maybe to them it is. It's even unimportant to me but I don't treat it like that. Yeah, I hate this job but I also have a responsibility to do a good job. People rely on me. And I try to do every job to the best of my ability, no matter how invested I may or may not be in it. But these kids just swoop through and don't take it seriously and it's frustrating because I have to pick up their slack but I'm also quite jealous because they can be so laid back about it all. For them, this job is just pocket money until they go to college or until they finish college and get a good job. It doesn't matter if they don't do a great job because they don't plan on being there too long anyway. I don't have that luxury. I have student loans. I have other bills. And I can't screw around and risk losing my job. I can't be care-free. I was raised to take jobs seriously so it does come natural to me but I also don't have a choice like the rest of them.
Size, straighten, colorize. Watch as customers destroy a stack of shirts. Clean up after them. Watch it happen again. Ask every customer if they want to fill out for a credit card. Ask them for their e-mail address at the end of the transaction. Ask them for their zip code. Tell them about our survey and beg them to rate us a five so the district manager will be happy. Offer to order something for them if they can't find it in the store. Even if they do find it in the store, mention we can order anything in the store in multiple sizes and colors anyway (and when we do try to order something for them, it is usually out of stock online as well as in the store). Size, straighten, colorize again. Watch as more customers ruin an hour of straightening in three minutes. Check fitting rooms every thirty minutes. Get change for coworkers. Size. Greet every customer in your department. Create conversation with them. Straighten. Just offer. Colorize. Help the other departments straighten their stuff. Call a manager for help if you have more than three people in line. They show up ten minutes later after you've checked everyone out and squeezed as much personal information from them as possible. Offer them magazine subscriptions at the end of the transaction. On their receipt, highlight how much they've saved. Colorize again. Straighten again. Measure clueless people for dress shirts. Watch as they unpin and unbutton dress shirt after dress shirt, try them on, decide they don't want them. Fold and pin them back. Straighten. Don't forget to greet and smile. Return clothes even if they reek of smoke or are stained. Return even if their receipt is expired or they don't have one. Return anything because the customer cannot be unhappy. Show them it is okay to be irresponsible as we'll take care of them anyway. Be nice to them and show them they can take advantage of us and knock down a stack of shirts because no one will stop them. And the new thing is we are encouraged to say, "It was a pleasure serving you today." Some higher up got that trick from Chick-fil-A because customers were apparently more satisfied when they were told it was a pleasure to be served. As if putting up with their crap wasn't demeaning enough, we know have to let them know how much of a pleasure it was to endure their halitosis and ignorance. Gosh, the company is taking tips from a fast food joint now. We're doing so well. Size again. Straighten again. Put up with bad attitudes and body odor. Feel like crying. Feel like screaming. Feel like killing. Go home. Do it again the next day. And somewhere in there, try not to lose your mind. Good luck with that.
And now, I don't even have anyone good to work with anymore. So, it's just going to get worse.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
