so i had a nice vacation

...and now I'm back.

I wish I could have stayed in NH. It was a lovely, different time. I'm not always myself when I'm home--I feel like I revert a little. The whole parents/home thing kind of can throw you off.

HOWEVER.

I am back at the store. And now here's a little story from the day I left for vacation. I had about 92 minutes to freedom:

I'm standing at my desk, filling out the manager's log (in extreme detail) for the week. I want things to be finished according to my standards. I'm a little intense about this--I'm going to be gone for a week, and Rush is starting the minute I come back.

A woman approaches my register with 8 t-shirts on hangers. "Hold these for me." I explain that this the book department and the clothing department would be happy to set those aside for her. (I seriously have no room. Or a bar to hang them on. I have about 200 books back-stocked in a very tiny space.) The clothing dept is about 20 feet away, so this shouldn't really a big deal.

She walks over to GM (general merchandise) and then turns back (I'm not sure why--there's no line and someone waiting at the register). "Just hold these here...I don't want to go over there." I repeat myself--this is the BOOK dept. I'll take her clothes, but I'll march them right over to GM to hold.

I have no use for this. She can't walk 20 feet? She looks at me with a challenging expression.

Okay, I seriously don't have a place to hold her EIGHT shirts. I could lay them on the floor. Strap them to my body. Toss them in the fucking air. WE DO NOT HOLD CLOTHES BEHIND MY DESK. I have enough books behind here to build a fort. NO. ROOM.

"So, I have to walk ALL THE WAY over there for my clothes...?" she says. (20 ft? really? you want to argue over this?)

"Well, that's where they came from...this is the book department...they have hangers over there..."

And now comes the point of the story. The punchline, if you will.

"So, what are you getting paid for? To stand behind this counter and look stupid?"

My mouth turns this metallic taste when I'm really angry. Right now, I could be chewing on pennies.

I say nothing. Immediately, two women approach me, asking me if they heard correctly and assuring me that I did nothing wrong. One is a faculty member and offers her name as a reference when I sputter that I'll probably get a complaint.

I was just called stupid.

How fucking degrading can a job be before you say "no more"?