Mug Shots

Was today one of those days that had you responding "fuck off!" even when someone was just saying "good morning!"?

No? Was it just me? I must be getting less tolerant in my old age. And so begins my moaning about turning another year older in approximately 31 days!

Anyway.

Sunday was my 5th Anniversary at Arkham Asylum. I remember when I first started here, at the young whipper snapper age of 32 (although soon to be 33), and was still a Bambi (naive with balancing issues) with hopes and dreams and a small coffee cup. After a couple of years, I bought a bigger cup because my escapes from my desk for coffee refills became less and less frequent.

This year, to celebrate the demise of my sense of humor when it comes to the Asylum, I graduated to an Andre the giant sized cup. I stopped kidding myself about being able to leave my desk. Ever.

I know what you're thinking, doesn't this mean more potty breaks? I won't tell anyone if you don't!

Of course this also means I am celebrating 5 years of playing "Fetch OZ's sandwich" which is always nice. Especially because one of my joys in life is walking across a vacant lot, side stepping dog poop landmines, in 4 inch heels for a meatball sandwich that somebody else is going to eat.

Yay me!

And if I happen to be at lunch when his majesty wants *HIS* lunch? Well, Glynda and her CSI skills track my ass down.

Glynda [walks into my office doesn't see me so she asks Milton]: Where's Bee?

Milton: Lunch.

Glynda: I was just in the lunchroom and she's not in there but I noticed the toaster is still warm.

Milton: Maybe she stepped out?

Glynda: But her purse is still here. [points at my chair where I place my purse and then swivel it to face the wall so that I don't get burglared by criminal patients]

Milton [starts fidgeting because now she's faced with a puzzle she cannot solve (no, I wasn't there to see it happen but I know my Milton)]: Um well maybe she walked to the gas station/Subway.

Glynda [dusts my area with special tracking powder]: Her car keys were sitting on this ledge and now they’re gone.

Milton: I-I-I don't know where she could be! [cries]

Glynda [she leaves the business office and is hot on my trail]: The foot pattern in the kitchen indicates she headed to the back door. Tiny miniscule crumbs tell me she left the building. This twig that was lying facing the handicap parking spot is now broken in half with the longer piece pointing east. Aha! She's eating her toasted sandwich in her car!

And then I heard a knock on my car window so I looked up and there, in her 4 foot 9 inch flashy white uniform, stood Glynda.

Glynda: OZ needs a meatball sandwich with cheese and 5 onion slices right now.

Yeah, she must still believe in Santa Claus if she thinks I'm gonna jump like a trained poodle and rush over to fetch his sandwich before I've had my lunch.

Me: Did you bring me money?

Glynda: Uh, no but Milton can get it for you.

Me: Okay, I've got another 15 minutes. I'm sure OZ won't die of starvation before then.

Glynda: Will you go right now if I bring you the money.

Me: No.

Glynda: I'll tell him you're on your way anyway. No sense in upsetting him.

And she waited for me to respond but my brain had already dismissed her.

In the amount of time it took her to track me down, she could have walked over to get his damn sandwich but I guess it wouldn't have tasted as good.

One more year of this silliness before I'm fully vested in our retirement fund!

Andyisms:

We spent the weekend at my in-laws house and woke up before sunrise on Sunday morning. As I was getting ready to go outside so that I could witness the sunrise, I asked Andy if he was going to come outside with me and his response was classic Andy:

"Well of course you sappy bastard!"

He makes my heart SOAR!

Dejected, Rejected, Ejected!

I am usually good at things I set my mind on doing. My self and I have a little pep talk "Self, I know jumping rope is a gravity defying activity especially for you and your, um, well rounded booty but you've done it before. Granted, there was less of you when you were 10 but just remember to land on your feet and not your elbows. NOT THE ELBOWS!" After a few failed attempts and some detangling, I become an expert/professional/master.

This usually works on anything I really want to do. Except whittling. For some reason, everything I whittle winds up looking like a penis. Shut up Freud! If God intended me to whittle, he would have given me 3 extra fingers on each hand instead of good looks.

Anyway, working at Anonymous Clothing Store has been pretty easy. I take direction well and I'm not at all snobbish when told to mop or dust or even clean the freakin toilet. I've gotten pretty good at helping customers find what they they're looking for, rearranging clothes, keeping the displays neat and tidy and even the panty carrousel semi organized. It's all been a breeze and I have even kept my vicious tongue in check so as not to pulverize the lady who told me she was a Walmart girl and proceeded to have a fit when I told her a pair of underwear were not included in the 5 for $19 panty sale without letting me finish that this pretty little thong was only 96 cents. A bargain Walmart would be proud of [bitch!, she whispers].

The one thing I'm still having difficulty doing is getting people to apply for the store credit card.

I hear the rest of the girls, or old veterans as I call them, rattle off the spiel without any effort and then cooing in their victims ear as they take their wallet. While I can rattle off the spiel, I find myself hesitating to deliver the death blow that would have these poor suckers chained to the store forever. Speaking as a sucker myself, of course.

I can relate to people giving me the brush off when I say shit like "If you open the credit card and you use it on a regular basis, each dollar you spend BLAH BLAH BLAH"

I'm used to being on the other side of that spiel after buying my car, Andy's car and dealing with Bally's dickheads who almost forced my friend, who weighed NINETY POUNDS, to join against her will when all she was doing was keeping me company for the day with a guest pass. Those dumb bastards (yep, I really hate Bally) had us tour the gym (I usually went to one in Chicago and this one was one in a suburb) with a hot blond guy thinking we'd swoon and she'd sign her life away.  Well they only got it half right.

Pfffft! I don't need a hot muscular guy! I have my Andy!

Then, when we didn't fall for his twinkling blue eyes, they sent a reject from the Oompa Loompa factory who tried to to intimidate me by studying my membership card and saying "accidents can happen, ya know?" well, he didn't say it with words but I can read eyes. He just kept saying my name over and over as if to hypnotize me with with his slimy liver lips. I finally grabbed my card from his sweaty hands and said "if hot guy couldn't get her to join, why do you think you could?" and I told my friend, who seemed to be in a daze, to get up because we were leaving!

So yeah, my whole rambling point is that I know what it feels like to be hounded into doing something you don't want to do and yet I still find myself saying, in a last ditch effort to suck them into temptation, "For today only, whether you get approved or not, we will give you a discount of 25% off your entire purchase if you apply!" but instead of luring them into my pit of overextended credit, these responsible individuals, these paragons of virtue, these goody two shoe nerds who probably pay with cash and do weird things like save money in a bank, tell me to suck it because they ain't falling for my scam!

And so I'm left standing there, sad, lonely and dejected. Like a reject from the Oompa Loompa factory. Minus the liver lips.

Bastards.

P.S.

Thank you all for the comments, emails and the support. You have no idea how much that has helped me. I'm sorry it took me a while to moderate the comments but I keep getting spammed by people trying to get me to enlarge my penis. Again.

Anyway, your comments touched this jaded girl's heart and that's all I'm gonna say about that. ;o)

Jean Knee? Rawwr! 

It seems trouble and weird older women follow me wherever I go!

So I have officially completed 2 full weeks at Anonymous Clothing Store. It's interesting (probably just to me) how different I feel going from the Asylum to ACS. It's a nice change of pace and I enjoy working with people that are closer to my age and know who Lady Gaga is. I'm not sure but I think I may be the oldest one there. Well, let's call me the most experienced one there and not the oldest one.

That's why I found so much amusement from the following conversation:

(As is tradition on this blog, my coworkers will have code names)

Hilary: If anybody confronts you about your hours, you tell them that it's probably because they're not getting enough people to sign up for the store credit card.

Me [as I was innocently hanging jeans]: What do you mean 'confronts you'?

Hilary: I don't want to bring the drama but some girls resent the fact that you're getting more hours than they are so they may come to you and say something. You're so nice that I don't want them to hurt your feelings.

Me: ... Um, thank you for your concern but you don't have to worry about me. (dying of laughter inside)

Hilary [genuinely concerned and that's why I did my best to remain serious]: Well you just don't let them push you around.

Me: Okay. I won't. (the Bee in my head is almost peeing herself from laughing so hard)

I didn't elaborate and give them examples of conversations I've had with lawyers, egotistical OZ and the bats because I think surprise attacks are better. I mean, would a kick in the groin be as effective if a person yelled out "I'm gonna kick you in the giblets!" right before? I'm sure it'll still hurt but you don't have that shock factor.

Anyway, I'm sure that when the time comes I'll show people how charming I can be.

Here are a couple of stories of the trade.    

Woman in her 50s walks into the store and tells me she's going on vacation so she wants some light t-shirts and khakis. I point her in the right direction and after she's made her selections, I open a dressing room for her.

After a little while I went and asked her how she was doing.

Woman: Do you have this in a slightly larger size? [hands me shirt over door]

Me: Let me check. [I find a larger size] Yes we do. I'll just put it on the--

Woman opens the dressing room door without a shirt on, displaying saggy boobage.

Woman: Thanks! Here, take these. [hands me clothes she doesn't want and so she gets close up I die a thousands deaths] They didn't work. 

Me: ... stutter stutter

I don't know about you guys but I prefer boobs that are young and perky... Wait, I think I just channeled Andy.

Later, I was standing in the front part of the store greeting people and an old lady walked through the door and I did my thing. Let's observe:

Me: hello! Welcome to ACS!

Old lady: Hi! Can you tell me if you still carry these leggings? [points at her legs]

Me: Do you remember when you bought them?

OL: About 2 months ago.

Me: There might be some in the clearance section but we have these new ones right here. Do you remember the style name?

OL: I'm not sure, here take a look.

AND THEN THE OLD LADY DROPPED TROU AND I WAS FACE TO FACE WITH OLD LADY BUTT CRACK!

Let's all observe a moment of silence for my innocence is dead.