Who Do I Think I Am??

This one's about my mountain fresh mouth.

THE PROMPT: "This is an extra day for the challenge. Your entry here don't affect your standing in our 30-Day Challenge. Just write anything you want. It's your day it's your blog."

Good evening everyone! Ahhh, the infamous Day 31 in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" . The mountainous and mysterious "Anything Goes" prompt. Which typically happens on a day where nothing goes...or at least nothing goes right.

Started my day on the late side, because I was a little under the weather late last night. Feels like I'm coming down with some kind of spring bug, on top of the fact that it was a little chilly last night and I went outside after I showered. Not the right combo for health and wellness.

So I made it to work at 8:04am, or in the eyes of the boss, four minutes late. But the time clock wasn't working, so when the time comes to fix my punches for the week, I'll likely get clocked in at 8am. Four more minutes of hourly pay! Whoo hoo!

And it was all downhill from there. I don't know what it is lately, but I just wanted to snap. A woman comes up to me and says, "Ok. Where are you hiding the sunglasses?" Lady, this isn't fuckin' Chuck E. Cheese. There aren't wonderments abounding, nor discoveries to be made. We're a damn house of pharmaceuticals and convenience goods. We don't hide nothin'. It's a retail store where you pay money for things in plain sight...like the sunglasses you walked ten feet past on the way to me.

After that, I do what everyone in retail does from time to time. I snapped. I got called into the office for something, and before my boss could say anything, I ranted about my story...see, in retail, if you're not a "normal" customer who abides by certain standards, we will talk about you. My boss was in an equally non-plussed mood for different reasons. I let go of my little rant and began to walk away, but it was totally one of those "I called you in here for a reason" moments. Shit.

She went on a tirade that I haven't seen in awhile, about some shit someone pulled a few nights ago with rainchecks and how the reports don't match and I was there so what did I know about that and damn if she didn't exhale throughout her bombastic rants. I told her what I knew, which was nothing, and slashed legs back out onto the sales floor.

Took my lunch a few minutes later so I could practice exhaling on my own for a half hour. Came back to some cases of detergent and fabric softener to put away. No problem...I loaded up my cart and went to the aisle. Grabbed a bottle of Downy from the case...the biggest damn bottle of fabric softener we carry, and sure enough, since I had it by the cap, the cap slipped off while I had it about halfway out of the case. The bottle bounced back into the case and puked Downy all over me. In my hair, all over my shirt, on my face, and in case you're wondering, it tastes exactly how it smells, only a lot more chemically and gross.

I was given a "silver lining scenario" by one of the other managers: "At least it wasn't Drano!" Not helpin' me out there, kid. But at least I smelled nice the rest of the day, and my hands were really soft. Sadly, my mood has still not recovered.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

In a rare display of anti-enthusiasm, I definitely dropped the MF bomb on the salesfloor as I tasted fabric softener for the first time. And while I can't explain the little dance move that erupted out of me during that experience, I can assure you with 100% certainty it was nothing like this:

VITAL STATS:

After my verbal lashing with my boss, she mentioned something like "Being a dick to customers isn't gonna get us '9' service" (9 being the highest rating we can get on the stupid survey that customers are encouraged to enter on the bottom of receipts). She also suggested I was in the wrong line of work...and in a rare moment of clarity, around fuckthisshit o'clock this morning, I agreed.

From the "Really, That Just Happened??" file: Admidst my irritation that dinner isn't ready yet and I have to go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight, justjessica1's younger son had his girlfriend stop by. And I have a policy with teenagers and significant others: I don't get to know the "other". Reason being is that there's no sense trying to get any bit personally invested in them because you never know how these situations change and fluctuate. I'd hate to really like a kid and think she's a good fit for him, because teenage girls are fickle and what works one day doesn't. That's a waste of knowing someone who you won't know in three or six months.

As in many residential neighborhoods, the ice cream truck came rollin' around. The girl heard it and thought it was somebody's cell phone, when the boy informed her it was indeed the ice cream truck. The girl flipped her little girl shit. Apparently, she lives in a part of town that has no sidewalks...and no sidewalks means no ice cream truck. She flew up the basement stairs and outside, screaming, "An ice cream truck! It exists! I thought it was a myth!", like she met Santa Claus and he was real because she tugged hid beard and he was legit. This madness carried on for about ten minutes (we live at one end of the block, and the end is a cul-de-sac, so yeah, took the driver about ten minutes to get down the street and back). Most would find this hilarious, that she's never seen an ice cream truck. Me? I'm still waiting for dinner, and that was almost an hour ago.

By the way, when I would stay at my dad's in Lovejoy, when we heard the ice cream man, we grabbed our change, hopped on our bikes, and flew down the streets lookin' for him like we were stalkers. He'd be playin' his jingle and we'd be tryin' to guess what street he was on...that was how it was livin' in the city back in the day. "I think he's down here!" "No! No! He's gotta be over there!" Meanwhile, the folks would laugh 'cuz he'd be on our street by then.

And on that note, I'm gonna make like a tree and get the eff outta here. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!