This week was amazing. I usually don’t get to drive the bookmobile but my supervisor let me. I suppose we can call it training since she will be moving on pretty soon. On Wednesday it was our time to visit the school. The week before, I had a special display on Louis Sachar books for the 3rd graders. I read them a couple of chapters off of Wayside School is Falling Down, one of my favorites as a child. They enjoyed the simple ridiculousness of Sachar, who I credit as the founder of my offbeat and witty humor. At the end I announced that I would be holding a writing contest for the funniest story. They asked with excitement what the prize was but I only told them it was a surprise. I actually didn’t have that figured out but kids love the mystery of surprises, even if it’s a super cool pencil. Actually, am I still living in 1995? I’ll think of something good.
———-Overheard speaker: Music Line 2. Music Line 2———————-
I stop dusting the same empty row between the Drama dvd’s and the Comedy dvd’s. I got a twenty five cent pay increment, I suppose my dusting skills are impeccable and whenever customers walk by, they must comment “God damn, that empty row is so fucking clean. Whoever dusted that must be like a God among dusters.”
I get on the phone and it’s one of the regular customers who has the most unfortunate stuttering problem. He is 46 or 56. He’s a virgin because he thinks with “the right head.” He wears a fanny pack. On the phone it takes him probably a full 30 seconds to pronounce one word. It probably takes him 5 minutes to tell me what he wants. It takes me another 5 to figure out what he wants. He then repeats whatever information I give him as a question. So if I tell him “No we don’t have it in store but we can order it for you” “S-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-o you-you-you-you-you-you donthaveit?” “No, but we can order it” “Kuh-kuh-kuh-kuh-kuh-canyouorderitforme.”
I feel like a terrible human being but he depresses me.
Where was I? Oh yeah, after work I took my parents out to dinner. I had been telling them that dinner was on me for a while. I wanted to take them out on my first check but I kind of got a little selfish when I went to the mall with my mom. I bought a couple of new dresses and she told me not to even worry about it, I could take them out next check or the next or the next. She was just happy to see me happy. She was most excited about me being able to finally pay off a big chunk of my dumb bills. I had asked her to look over my finances and she told me that within the next 6 months I could purchase a new car. I told her to hold off on that daydream because instead maybe I could move out? She told me I was crazy, in that teasing way, but that she was happy that I was thinking about that.
——————-Customer walks into music department—————–
A woman walks in. She’s wearing a business suit and gives off that “time is money” vibe. She walks back and forth near the music CD’s and yells something fast and inaudible to me. I am standing practically on the opposite side of the department. She starts walking up to me really fast and repeating what she had said until she’s finally too close for comfort and asks me “Where are your machines where I can listen to the CD’s?”
“We don’t have them anymore actually”
“You don’t have them anymore?!” with a really annoyed expression
At this point, I just want to leave. She interrupted the little quality time I had and now it was broken. I swear, they tell me, “look on the bright side” “the glass is half full” “be positive” “have faith” and…and…and I walk into work thinking this and I look at my schedule and I have 7 hours for the next week. I have $150 worth of bills to pay this second half of the week. There I go again asking my mom to loan me money, to give me little jobs, to pay me for being her daughter. I start to think, is this their way of telling me goodbye? What did I do? Did I push the company on edge with my pay increase? God, buy a fucking membership, please? Yes, I ask GOD. I ask HIM to buy a membership. He wouldn’t say no? I just said “fucking” to God. Great. I start to think, this is how it feels to be an unskilled worker. I’m part of that demographic. I’m that demographic of people who will never have job security. I start to think, I hate being fucking brown. It’s always white people at the top. It’s always some dumb white person in charge of me. I fucking hate being brown. God, I’m ugly too! And then I start to think about him. He must be so happy. He must have a pretty skinny girlfriend and is living the life. I fucking hate him. I don’t want him to be happy. He can be happy after I’m happy. And then this bitch walks in with her attitude…
“No we don’t have them anymore”
“I…I…” I give up. “…I really don’t know.” I really don’t. I never bothered to ask. Usually I just spit out some, oh corporate you know kinda stuff. But today, I give up.
“Oh, you don’t know? So you don’t ask questions at work? You just work with no thoughts in your head? I’m a manager at my job and I got to be manager because I asked questions-“
“Oh, Good for you”
“Good FOR ME?! Wow. Good for me!”
“Yeaaa good for you”
“You know what thanks for your GREAT customer service”
“OH, YOU’RE WELCOME”
And like the little wimp that I am, I preceded to cry in the corner and asked to leave early because I wasn’t feeling well. The whole way home I cried about my stupid job, my stupid 7 hours, my stupid car that makes stupid noises, my stupid ugly brown skin, that stupid bitch, stupid white people, my stupid friends, stupid God, the god damned stupid dusters.
I went into my bathroom. I had started my stupid dumb period.
And I cried because I thought “I’m such a stupid dramatic stereotype.”
And then I cried some more because I was crying about not having hours but I cut my own hours therefore I’m more stupid than I thought.
But it’s okay. Not everyday, week or even month is like this. I just need to remember the little Dan Savage on my right shoulder whispering “it gets better it gets better.” I’m not the type of person that will adopt those trite messages of positivity. I’m a positive person, hard to believe, but I am. I just have a different approach. I take the Dave Chappelle approach and I keep it real. That day might have been an example of when keeping it real went wrong.
I keep it real. No I don’t have that job because there’s something better for me and God has better plans. No, I would have been amazing at that job and I don’t have that job because the state of California is fucked and God hates libraries, obviously.
I’m also rational and I allow myself a day of insanity, pity and sadness. It’s okay. I realize I probably scared any potential mates out there saying to themselves “This lady writer is charming-oh wait a minute…” We all know what a great reputation lady writers have after all.
Also, the other infamous “him” in my writings was a prevalent thought in the past months. I am happy to report that not only am I happier with myself but I am also not ugly. In fact, I think I’m too cute for him now a days.
I will probably have another day like this where I refuse to live outside my head. Where everything outside of myself is just a tumbleweed of dumb crap slowly rolling towards me and I’ll stand there waiting for it. When it hits me I’ll cry and I’ll think where did this come from and why me and I hate everyone. And that’s okay because I’ll move on once I brush that shit off.