(no subject)
Working yesterday was especially hard. The day seemed to go by fast though, and I was grateful for that.
Aside from it being Hallmark, it has hard for having to look at the relationship cards, the I'm sorry cards, the love cards. Why is it that when things happen, the world rarely afford me a few days off to deal with it alone? I'm always expected at work in a few hours or the next day and have to keep it all in.
I didn't do a very good job yesterday, as I had to frequently take breaks in the back bathroom to go cry for a minute. I hate crying. It's such a stupid, girl thing to do, but if I've learned anything about myself, it's that I have to just let it out in waves. Usually after that few minutes I'm fine. It's the bottling of those tears/emotions that makes me worse off in the long run.
Luckily, I was working with A for a while, and she's quite a bit more understanding about things. So I got to vent a little, and she empathized in all the right places, and then I was able to go out and do my job.
I do believe it surprised S, a new girl whom I made a terrible first impression on. In the grand scheme of things, I do not care that she seems to have a problem with me, but it does bother me that she acts as though she understands everything at work already. Only when the situation seems dire does she resign herself to asking for help, and only as a very last resort will she ask me (she will ask others if they are nearby first). I realized I had not made a good impression the first night we worked together and had apologized, but decided to cut my losses and not invest a whole lot in making things up to her. After all, who cares? I will have worked with her for a total of... three weeks before quitting. So it's not like it matters. Anyway, I seemed to have made up for some of that yesterday by not talking a whole lot and keeping the mask on the entire time (except for my breaks in the bathroom). She responded better to that, at least.
Too bad the Hallmark mask is probably the most hollow and shallow of my masks, totally devoid of anything resembling compassion. I hate to say it like that, but when I help you at Hallmark, I'm about as far away from being me as I can be.
I'm getting good at balancing these fractured personalities though. And anyway, I only have to do this for another week, and then I'll be free.
The new manager seems okay. Not the best, not the worst. He came in his first night and swept through the back room. I think he basically purged our entire store room of anything that looked like clutter, which is good because we had old stock from a year ago, I'm sure, or older. Not good for things like the phone books, which have mysteriously disappeared, and the complimentary wrapping paper, which was hiding on a hard-to-reach shelf.
He has his "communications box," which is a wicker basket where we throw our "little scraps of paper" for him. Actually, he says he's done away with our "little scraps of paper" system, and instead is insisting us using these neatly printed taupe cards he printed to keep track of communications. Okay, T. Whatever you say.
He also somehow talked me into staying "on call." Really for me, it means "I will never pick up the phone again for you, ever." So sure! I'll be on call. It just means that working is at my discretion, right?
Oh Hallmark. Will we ever let each other go?
Aside from it being Hallmark, it has hard for having to look at the relationship cards, the I'm sorry cards, the love cards. Why is it that when things happen, the world rarely afford me a few days off to deal with it alone? I'm always expected at work in a few hours or the next day and have to keep it all in.
I didn't do a very good job yesterday, as I had to frequently take breaks in the back bathroom to go cry for a minute. I hate crying. It's such a stupid, girl thing to do, but if I've learned anything about myself, it's that I have to just let it out in waves. Usually after that few minutes I'm fine. It's the bottling of those tears/emotions that makes me worse off in the long run.
Luckily, I was working with A for a while, and she's quite a bit more understanding about things. So I got to vent a little, and she empathized in all the right places, and then I was able to go out and do my job.
I do believe it surprised S, a new girl whom I made a terrible first impression on. In the grand scheme of things, I do not care that she seems to have a problem with me, but it does bother me that she acts as though she understands everything at work already. Only when the situation seems dire does she resign herself to asking for help, and only as a very last resort will she ask me (she will ask others if they are nearby first). I realized I had not made a good impression the first night we worked together and had apologized, but decided to cut my losses and not invest a whole lot in making things up to her. After all, who cares? I will have worked with her for a total of... three weeks before quitting. So it's not like it matters. Anyway, I seemed to have made up for some of that yesterday by not talking a whole lot and keeping the mask on the entire time (except for my breaks in the bathroom). She responded better to that, at least.
Too bad the Hallmark mask is probably the most hollow and shallow of my masks, totally devoid of anything resembling compassion. I hate to say it like that, but when I help you at Hallmark, I'm about as far away from being me as I can be.
I'm getting good at balancing these fractured personalities though. And anyway, I only have to do this for another week, and then I'll be free.
The new manager seems okay. Not the best, not the worst. He came in his first night and swept through the back room. I think he basically purged our entire store room of anything that looked like clutter, which is good because we had old stock from a year ago, I'm sure, or older. Not good for things like the phone books, which have mysteriously disappeared, and the complimentary wrapping paper, which was hiding on a hard-to-reach shelf.
He has his "communications box," which is a wicker basket where we throw our "little scraps of paper" for him. Actually, he says he's done away with our "little scraps of paper" system, and instead is insisting us using these neatly printed taupe cards he printed to keep track of communications. Okay, T. Whatever you say.
He also somehow talked me into staying "on call." Really for me, it means "I will never pick up the phone again for you, ever." So sure! I'll be on call. It just means that working is at my discretion, right?
Oh Hallmark. Will we ever let each other go?