So here's just a few things I've learned from my job, hopefully you'll enjoy the list.
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Working in Retail
FUNNY STUFF:
Boxes: You know those display beds? Yeah, most of them aren't on mattresses, but wooden boxes. These boxes make our "mini bed displays" Look like a mattress without an actually mattress.
Kids and Boxes: When kids see the fluffy beds and decorative pillows and run in for a belly flop and face dive on our "mattress", I always have to turn away to laugh because the sound the box makes and the sound the kid makes afterwards is always hilarious.
I'll Go Check in the Back: A common phrase used to get away from cranky costumers that always works.
Help: "Do you need help finding anything today?" Either people will smile and say no or ask me to help them with every. Little. Thing. :)
Quilts vs. Comforters: Lesson learned. Any person 55 and under wants a comforter. Any person 55 and older wants a quilt. All old ladies want QUILTS. It kinda makes me think, 'Uhhh... Shouldn't you be making one or something?'
Sweetheart: Old people calling me sweetheart: Kind of cute. Middle aged people calling me sweetheart: Annoying, since they're only five years older than me, but I shrug it off. When people I work with call me sweetheart: I avoid seeing them, as of it seems to be my name or something. Every thirty seconds around them, "sweetheart" is being said, and than I remember it's refering to me.
Fantasy: Thinking about what would happen if you just snapped at the "sweetheart" person and gave an awesome speech like all the chick flic movies do...
Nametag: Doesn't have my picture on it... Yes!
Lanyard: Good for making co-workers laugh when you pretend to hang yourself with it.
Scruffy: Apparently, our store manager is growing a beard. When I asked my supervisor on my second day of work if the scruffy man was the head hancho boss, she laughed and said yes. Later, with me there, she re-told him this story, emphansizing the way I called him scruffy.
Sence of Humor: My head hancho boss has it.
Phone: I answer phone calls for my department... I get the weirdest questions from temperpedic pillows to people asking me if I can put leapord print satin sheets on hold.
Price Scanners I: Make loud sounds. I can see awesome stuff like future sells and such on them. However, finding how much it will cost after your employee discount isn't a feature.
Price Scanners II: Make you look like you're being usefull by scanning random things. Playing with the lazer is cool too.
Lamps: Their's one with fringe that I always have to play with when I walk by.
Voice: I've realized while at work, whenever I greet someone, it sounds like I'm talking to a dog. I'm just that peppy.
Catalog: Very few people want to use it.
"Get Back to Work": Say it to co-workers while they're working. It confuses them, than makes them laugh.
Accent: I need to learn Chinese, Spanish, and Arabic... because I can't understand your accent sometimes... o.O'
Phone Extensions: Passing someone you're on the phone with to someone else so they can better help them/deal with them.
No: I'm not allowed to say this word to costomers... Apparently, only Supervisors can...
Music I: How many times the song you love plays in the store per shift: 1. How many times they play that annoying, screechy, hillbilly song per shift: 3,634,464,235,248,978,235.
Music II: I smile when I hear the following songs being played in the teenage men's clothing section (They and teenage girls get different, more "hipper" music than the rest of the store)
Irreplaceable by Beyonce. A song about a girl making her ex move out.
Love Story by Taylor Swift... actually, anything Taylor Swift is weird to hear amongst the graphic tee's and emo shirts...
And of course...
Single Ladies by Beyonce. No explanation needed for this song...
Music III: The music playing in our store is the exact same music playing in all the other stores in Utah.
Price Matching: Macey's called today to price match for, apparently, the first time in two years...
Coupons: making your total go from $375 some odd dollars down to $150-ish.
Employee Number: I was so close to having my employee number be 0626... so close to having Stitch's alien experiment number!!
Smile: Barbie wishes she could do it as good as I can.
Names I: We all have nick-names, or something close to it. The boys in the Home department have Drag Queen names and the girls all have Butch names. Here's the list:
Daisy = David Dynamite
Diana = Dangerous Dill
Janaye = Jagged Jared
...And my favorite...
Kaleb: Kayla Kandie (Candy)
Sorry: Sorry Kayla... Sorry you're name became Drag Queen worthy with Candy with a "K" and "ie" at the end...
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NUMBERS I WONDER IF I SHOULD KNOW
Parental Guidence Consoler
Boot Camp
Old Folks Home (I think they lose some of their people sometimes...)
and,
Couples Consoling.
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COINCIDENCE
Names II: My Manager is named Sjanna (pronounced "Shawna") with a younger sister named Kayla.
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AMAZING THINGS
Help: It always makes me smile no matter what mood I'm in, when the frail, shaky old lady gets on the bus and a tattooed, tough looking black man stands to lead her to an empty seat.
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So far, that's it. The "Coincidence" and "Amazing Things" just didn't fit into the funny category, so they recived their own. :)
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Lesson of the Day
Lesson for the Day- If you're going to lie, at least try to be good at it. If you get caught, at least fess up. If you deny and lie again, stop trying to be my friend.
Too many people have been lying to me. I honestly don't know who to trust anymore.
Too many people have been lying to me. I honestly don't know who to trust anymore.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
The Depressing Written Things
A lot of people ask why my writing is so depressing. I haven't had anything catastrophic happen to me and I'm not in a terrible living situation or anything like that. So why does my work take such a depressing side? I'm not emo 24/7, so why so dark?
Sometimes I ask this myself. I think because I write better when depressed. If you want a happy story, look around. Twilight and chick flicks are everywhere. Well, life isn't a romantic comedy. It's a broken and often repeated picture show. Most of the time, your life is just on a wheel, rotating and flickering in and out because of broken film.
So instead of smiling through the stupid nicety's, I write it out. I type until my eyes droop from the computer screen's glare and I feel like my fingers are numb. I write poetry when I'm really down or having somethings that's bothering me A LOT.
Short stories I whip up because I like to think about people in different situations. I think 'What would I do? What if I was different? What if this changed? How would I react?' and than before I know it, a character named Haley appears and finds out she's a home wrecker, or two people play the same game of breaking hearts, or someones best friend commits suicide.
And if you think about it... nothing really tragic happens in movies. Sure, the mom dies, but usually she's had a fulfilling life. The grandpa is gone, but had many years full of memories. Yeah, they died, but why is it that everyone already knows? The mom has terminal cancer. The grandpa has had previous strokes and is on his last rounds of meds. They die and everyone is sad, but gets through it.
What about all the teens who commit suicide? What about euthanasia? What about the lonely elderly? What about the parties where lives are changed? What of alcohol and drugs and abuse where lives are purposely destroyed?
Let's face it. Life doesn't end when the wedding bells sound or you get your "perfect kiss". After all, 1 time out of a 100, the nerd gets the jock. The quiet shy boy becomes outgoing for his "true love." The cheerleader dates a chess player, the rock star falls in love with a cellist.
It's unrealistic. Most of the time, you'll draw people in like you, or with enough personality traits to like yours to. Falling in love with your "opposite" seems to hardly ever work out without divorce papers and custody battles.
So yeah. What about Haley finding out her prom date is already married? What about the two heart breakers breaking each other's hearts and never repairing them together? What about the girl who's best friend commits suicide because he can't take living his live anymore?
Situations like these seem to hardly ever arise in movies. So I write them. I think of what I would do, what maybe I would do if my character was distorted a bit. What if I was a druggie? What if I was love struck with someone who hated me? What if I was a guy, how would my perception change?
Even little things change everything.
So yeah, I tend to be depressing. Maybe because I find it more real. People "in love" who write about it in poems and stories and such are just trying to fulfill a dream that doesn't come true. You can sing to the heavens about how great it is, but something always happens. Secrets are found, hearts are broken. And yeah, marriage is great and helps and love is amazing, but I don't find it realistic or relatable when people spout off poetry outside a window or write a song for someone. It makes for a good, fluffy and gushy read, but will it happen in real life?
No.
So excuse me for trying to write something new. Something I don't experience often with and the the world doesn't see everyday. Does it mean I'm suicidal?
NO.
Does it mean I'm realistic?
Yes.
Sometimes I ask this myself. I think because I write better when depressed. If you want a happy story, look around. Twilight and chick flicks are everywhere. Well, life isn't a romantic comedy. It's a broken and often repeated picture show. Most of the time, your life is just on a wheel, rotating and flickering in and out because of broken film.
So instead of smiling through the stupid nicety's, I write it out. I type until my eyes droop from the computer screen's glare and I feel like my fingers are numb. I write poetry when I'm really down or having somethings that's bothering me A LOT.
Short stories I whip up because I like to think about people in different situations. I think 'What would I do? What if I was different? What if this changed? How would I react?' and than before I know it, a character named Haley appears and finds out she's a home wrecker, or two people play the same game of breaking hearts, or someones best friend commits suicide.
And if you think about it... nothing really tragic happens in movies. Sure, the mom dies, but usually she's had a fulfilling life. The grandpa is gone, but had many years full of memories. Yeah, they died, but why is it that everyone already knows? The mom has terminal cancer. The grandpa has had previous strokes and is on his last rounds of meds. They die and everyone is sad, but gets through it.
What about all the teens who commit suicide? What about euthanasia? What about the lonely elderly? What about the parties where lives are changed? What of alcohol and drugs and abuse where lives are purposely destroyed?
Let's face it. Life doesn't end when the wedding bells sound or you get your "perfect kiss". After all, 1 time out of a 100, the nerd gets the jock. The quiet shy boy becomes outgoing for his "true love." The cheerleader dates a chess player, the rock star falls in love with a cellist.
It's unrealistic. Most of the time, you'll draw people in like you, or with enough personality traits to like yours to. Falling in love with your "opposite" seems to hardly ever work out without divorce papers and custody battles.
So yeah. What about Haley finding out her prom date is already married? What about the two heart breakers breaking each other's hearts and never repairing them together? What about the girl who's best friend commits suicide because he can't take living his live anymore?
Situations like these seem to hardly ever arise in movies. So I write them. I think of what I would do, what maybe I would do if my character was distorted a bit. What if I was a druggie? What if I was love struck with someone who hated me? What if I was a guy, how would my perception change?
Even little things change everything.
So yeah, I tend to be depressing. Maybe because I find it more real. People "in love" who write about it in poems and stories and such are just trying to fulfill a dream that doesn't come true. You can sing to the heavens about how great it is, but something always happens. Secrets are found, hearts are broken. And yeah, marriage is great and helps and love is amazing, but I don't find it realistic or relatable when people spout off poetry outside a window or write a song for someone. It makes for a good, fluffy and gushy read, but will it happen in real life?
No.
So excuse me for trying to write something new. Something I don't experience often with and the the world doesn't see everyday. Does it mean I'm suicidal?
NO.
Does it mean I'm realistic?
Yes.
Ask Me
So mom says a lot of you have been worried about me... Than why the heck are you asking her about me? No offence, but that's stupid. She says you all think I'm on the brink of insanity and I think it's really dumb you're going to her instead of ME. If you have a question about ME, ask ME. Not MOM.
Mom doesn't know everything about what's going on, not saying that I know everything that's going on with myself, but I can probably tell you more than mom can. If you're worried about me, call and ask. Otherwise, please keep your questions to yourself. Really? Don't ask mom about me. I'm eighteen, and while eighteen might seem young to all of you, technically, I am an adult. Please treat me that way.
So unless I'm in a coma, please ask me how I'm doing instead of asking Mom.
Thanks.
Mom doesn't know everything about what's going on, not saying that I know everything that's going on with myself, but I can probably tell you more than mom can. If you're worried about me, call and ask. Otherwise, please keep your questions to yourself. Really? Don't ask mom about me. I'm eighteen, and while eighteen might seem young to all of you, technically, I am an adult. Please treat me that way.
So unless I'm in a coma, please ask me how I'm doing instead of asking Mom.
Thanks.
Monday, May 24, 2010
More Pretty Things
Once upon a time, I was in a better mood. This mood was called "The-Sunday-Before-I-Knew-I-Lost-Everything-On-My-Laptop" mood. So I made pretty things.
It says "Ohana. Ohana means family. Family means nobody get's left behind or forgotten". I love this picture of Stitch with the ducklings teaching them about the story of "The Ugly Duckling". I love Stitch and his movie and the ducks, and I loved this picture most of all, so I drew it.
This was a blank black bag, and I turned it into something freakin' wicked awesome. Granted, most of the blue sparkle studs have fallen off, it was pretty cool. I really liked making the butterfly BY hand and putting on all the sparkelers and stuff.
A closer look of my butterfly. It's really cool, I'm actually proud of how it turned out.
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So yeah, their's my creativity when it's not at a computer screen writing stories and connecting rhymes.
Lucky for me, these one's can be only distroyed by me, not stupid Best Buys.
It says "Ohana. Ohana means family. Family means nobody get's left behind or forgotten". I love this picture of Stitch with the ducklings teaching them about the story of "The Ugly Duckling". I love Stitch and his movie and the ducks, and I loved this picture most of all, so I drew it.
This was a blank black bag, and I turned it into something freakin' wicked awesome. Granted, most of the blue sparkle studs have fallen off, it was pretty cool. I really liked making the butterfly BY hand and putting on all the sparkelers and stuff.
A closer look of my butterfly. It's really cool, I'm actually proud of how it turned out.
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So yeah, their's my creativity when it's not at a computer screen writing stories and connecting rhymes.
Lucky for me, these one's can be only distroyed by me, not stupid Best Buys.
Goodbye's and Best Buys
So everything from my laptop has been whiped out. Everything is gone.
Everything.
My pictures of Braden who's gone for two years (and I know people are going to be mad at me that they are gone), my poems and stories that will never be finished or come back. They're gone. All of them. Forever.
When my computer went hay-wire, Best Buys offered to back up my documents and pictures and I said yes. When I picked it up, they told me they would still be there. When I brought it back because I couldn't find it, they sheepishly told me that they must have been erased.
So an hour before work I hear that everything I spent writing and typing and thinking and creating is gone.
I went to work early, found an empty space, and cried. Yeah, I was that upset and angry that I cried.
A lot.
Enough to have gray streaks of stray eye-liner stain my cheeks and have a flushed face and a hurting head from the pain of losing everything my mind conjoured for months.
Sure, maybe it was my bad that I didn't have it all saved on a flash drive, but my faith in Best Buys doing what they said they would kept me feeling safe that everything would still be saved and brought back to life again.
So thanks a lot, Best Buys, for telling me you'd do something you never did. Thanks for getting my hopes up and than screwing me over with them.
Good bye, stories. Good bye creativity and time I spent into writing and typing. Good bye pictures that will never be seen again.
Good bye.
Good bye.
Good bye.
Oh, and a special P.S. to Best Buys: Thanks for giving back my empty and blank laptop. It makes a really great paperweight now.
Everything.
My pictures of Braden who's gone for two years (and I know people are going to be mad at me that they are gone), my poems and stories that will never be finished or come back. They're gone. All of them. Forever.
When my computer went hay-wire, Best Buys offered to back up my documents and pictures and I said yes. When I picked it up, they told me they would still be there. When I brought it back because I couldn't find it, they sheepishly told me that they must have been erased.
So an hour before work I hear that everything I spent writing and typing and thinking and creating is gone.
I went to work early, found an empty space, and cried. Yeah, I was that upset and angry that I cried.
A lot.
Enough to have gray streaks of stray eye-liner stain my cheeks and have a flushed face and a hurting head from the pain of losing everything my mind conjoured for months.
Sure, maybe it was my bad that I didn't have it all saved on a flash drive, but my faith in Best Buys doing what they said they would kept me feeling safe that everything would still be saved and brought back to life again.
So thanks a lot, Best Buys, for telling me you'd do something you never did. Thanks for getting my hopes up and than screwing me over with them.
Good bye, stories. Good bye creativity and time I spent into writing and typing. Good bye pictures that will never be seen again.
Good bye.
Good bye.
Good bye.
Oh, and a special P.S. to Best Buys: Thanks for giving back my empty and blank laptop. It makes a really great paperweight now.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
When I Think of You...
When I think of you, three words come to mind: Back stabbing jerk. When your name comes into mind, I think these words and smile in a way that looks like a grimice. Because that's what it is, it's grim to think about you. It's annoying to know you're happy. To know that you don't know how much freakin' pain you caused me. To know how pain you currently causing and will cause me.
To know you don't even freakin' care anyway.
It's always been about you. ALWAYS. You've never thought about me. It was always yourself and whoever you where with that was numero uno. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being on the back burrner of your life. If you even care, let me know. Other than that, leave me alone.
This isn't a joke. I'm for real right now. I'm telling it how it is. I'm leaving you. I'm tired of being second to last. I'm tired of you not caring. If you want to know something, call. If you even care, text. If you don't, than erase my phone number and face. Seriously, don't even bother remembering me.
I'm already forgetting you.
It's a slow proccess, but who knows? Maybe the more I forget you, the easier it will be to rid myself of the memories I have of you. The good ones, the mediocer ones, and the majority, 99% of the memeories I have of you: The painful, too awful to remember ones.
So here's a toast to you. A toast of Cherry Kool-Aid to you. A toast to your health, that you'll leave me alone for as long as you live.
Cheers.
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It may seem like I'm getting rid of a lot of people in my life, but it's only because just now I'm realising how bad It's gotten.
To know you don't even freakin' care anyway.
It's always been about you. ALWAYS. You've never thought about me. It was always yourself and whoever you where with that was numero uno. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being on the back burrner of your life. If you even care, let me know. Other than that, leave me alone.
This isn't a joke. I'm for real right now. I'm telling it how it is. I'm leaving you. I'm tired of being second to last. I'm tired of you not caring. If you want to know something, call. If you even care, text. If you don't, than erase my phone number and face. Seriously, don't even bother remembering me.
I'm already forgetting you.
It's a slow proccess, but who knows? Maybe the more I forget you, the easier it will be to rid myself of the memories I have of you. The good ones, the mediocer ones, and the majority, 99% of the memeories I have of you: The painful, too awful to remember ones.
So here's a toast to you. A toast of Cherry Kool-Aid to you. A toast to your health, that you'll leave me alone for as long as you live.
Cheers.
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It may seem like I'm getting rid of a lot of people in my life, but it's only because just now I'm realising how bad It's gotten.
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