I'm glad no one reads this long-windedness
At least twice a month, without fail, I find myself lying in bed, peeking through one eye to spy the time. And I sigh, do some weird mental arithmetic and a semi-rational weighing of consequences: Three possible outcomes-- falling asleep now and getting three hours and twenty two minutes of rest before work in the am, lying in bed for the same amount of time and not be able to fall asleep (a frustration like no other), or just haul ass out of bed and get some shit done.
I logically deduced that I would be less bitchy just pulling an all nighter. It was particularly
difficult to come to a decision-- pulling a double tomorrow-- the speculations of consequences versus possibilities hangs in the air as that fucking alarm clock keeps flipping through the minutes.
So you know how during the holidays every gas station, bakery, pharmacy, and other such fine establishments asks you for a dollar donation to some charity or another. You're innocently and politely enough just trying to pay for your shit and leave, but wait, here comes some clerk asking for more dough. She is slowing the line, asking, explaining. And - oh shit - she can't find her fat marker so you can write your name on a smiley-face, or balloon, or snowman. Your foot starts to tap.
It's annoying. And when you get up there and try to politely decline, "No thanks, I give to St. Jude's/ United Way," "I'm sorry, I'm a broke college student," "I already gave you a dollar last night," as you stuff your extra cash in your pocket as the clerk frowns down on you. Some people even feel guilt. Clerk behind the counter must be judging you, thinking that you're cheap and selfish, going to hell.
This shame can lie dormant under the skin for a some time.. You may even need to seek some professional therapy after years of declining.
That being said- I am the ugliest version of those charity clucking clerks. I have answers for all of your excuses. I say please. I pout. I scheme, manipulate, play at that feeling of shame. And in return you get to leave the store a little happier, perhaps feeling like you made somewhat of a difference. And I show genuine gratitude for those who do indeed donate.
This will be my fifth Christmas run selling balloons for Children's Miracle network. Throughout the course of my time at Sunoco A-Plus, I have remained undefeated in the balloon selling business. One must understand that four years waiting on the Bloomfield public stretches your soul thin, you have to get out (at least for a hiatus, in my case). When I quit two years ago, it was right after Christmas. Small events and drama led to my resignation; one of them being the donations to Children's. A woman who I to work
with (and is the definition of incompetence-- even if she can iron her husbands shirts) decided she was going to raise more money then me (she didn't).
Our incentive was only ten dollars I think. But this isn't about any chincy incentive. No, no, no. This isn't about raising money for needy children (well, kinda, of course it is). This is about slamming my fist down on the counter and cackling, "BEAT THAT BITCHES!!!" So, due to two very pigheaded, competitive, and dirty dealing clerks, we raised more money last year than three other city Sunoco's combined. However, some words were said, some shit got petty... and I was just fucking tired. So the horrible spite and uncomfortable air turned a charity drive into a blaspheme and my last straw.
But now I'm back, and she's still here. So to avoid further dangerous competition, my manager divided us into teams. "Team Erin" and "Team Darlene." The scales are totally tipped. Most of my team just don't give a shit (can you blame them?), work second shift, and are part time.
I am unwilling to lose.
Just for the record , no one, including Darlene, has exceeded $75 on one shift. Except me. I sold 96 my first day. Determined to beat myself and pull my team from the gutter, I bet my manager that I could beat my own high score . So I sold 121. Hell fuckin yeah. Tonight I worked with a real cool dude, and we were being pretty competitive, even stooping pretty low at some points, but it was all in jest. He was so determined to beat me for the night, and is on the opposing team. So I pushed harder and sold 147 tonight. He got 74.
I'm sorry. All of that for just a little bit of bragging.
It was nice at end of shift when I was doing paper work; I went up to co-worker dude and was like, "Check it out man, we raised $221 in eight hours for kids who don't have shit." And we did a cool little hand shake/fist bump sort of thing.
The moral of the story. When standing in peril in front of a cash register, being asked to fork over another buck, on top of outrageous cigarette and food price gouging--, don't get pissed at the person behind the register (even if they ask you every time you see them), just say "No, sorry," don't make excuses, if you get a persistent and feisty one, such as I am, just smile and repeat, "No, sorry." If you do decide to help the less fortunate, make sure the charity is reputable and that 100% gets to them.
Oh, and yes, say it's a local spot, somewhere you go everyday, or week. Make sure you choose your favorite clerk and donate when they're ringing. Even if no incentive is offered, we keep track of this silliness. Even if we don't gloat about beating other workers, we still feel pride. And hell, then I, and all other people breathing down your neck to give a buck here, give a buck there, here a buck, there a buck, everywhere a buck buck-- we can walk out the door eight hours later feeling just a little less empty.
I logically deduced that I would be less bitchy just pulling an all nighter. It was particularly
difficult to come to a decision-- pulling a double tomorrow-- the speculations of consequences versus possibilities hangs in the air as that fucking alarm clock keeps flipping through the minutes.
So you know how during the holidays every gas station, bakery, pharmacy, and other such fine establishments asks you for a dollar donation to some charity or another. You're innocently and politely enough just trying to pay for your shit and leave, but wait, here comes some clerk asking for more dough. She is slowing the line, asking, explaining. And - oh shit - she can't find her fat marker so you can write your name on a smiley-face, or balloon, or snowman. Your foot starts to tap.
It's annoying. And when you get up there and try to politely decline, "No thanks, I give to St. Jude's/ United Way," "I'm sorry, I'm a broke college student," "I already gave you a dollar last night," as you stuff your extra cash in your pocket as the clerk frowns down on you. Some people even feel guilt. Clerk behind the counter must be judging you, thinking that you're cheap and selfish, going to hell.
This shame can lie dormant under the skin for a some time.. You may even need to seek some professional therapy after years of declining.
That being said- I am the ugliest version of those charity clucking clerks. I have answers for all of your excuses. I say please. I pout. I scheme, manipulate, play at that feeling of shame. And in return you get to leave the store a little happier, perhaps feeling like you made somewhat of a difference. And I show genuine gratitude for those who do indeed donate.
This will be my fifth Christmas run selling balloons for Children's Miracle network. Throughout the course of my time at Sunoco A-Plus, I have remained undefeated in the balloon selling business. One must understand that four years waiting on the Bloomfield public stretches your soul thin, you have to get out (at least for a hiatus, in my case). When I quit two years ago, it was right after Christmas. Small events and drama led to my resignation; one of them being the donations to Children's. A woman who I to work
with (and is the definition of incompetence-- even if she can iron her husbands shirts) decided she was going to raise more money then me (she didn't).
Our incentive was only ten dollars I think. But this isn't about any chincy incentive. No, no, no. This isn't about raising money for needy children (well, kinda, of course it is). This is about slamming my fist down on the counter and cackling, "BEAT THAT BITCHES!!!" So, due to two very pigheaded, competitive, and dirty dealing clerks, we raised more money last year than three other city Sunoco's combined. However, some words were said, some shit got petty... and I was just fucking tired. So the horrible spite and uncomfortable air turned a charity drive into a blaspheme and my last straw.
But now I'm back, and she's still here. So to avoid further dangerous competition, my manager divided us into teams. "Team Erin" and "Team Darlene." The scales are totally tipped. Most of my team just don't give a shit (can you blame them?), work second shift, and are part time.
I am unwilling to lose.
Just for the record , no one, including Darlene, has exceeded $75 on one shift. Except me. I sold 96 my first day. Determined to beat myself and pull my team from the gutter, I bet my manager that I could beat my own high score . So I sold 121. Hell fuckin yeah. Tonight I worked with a real cool dude, and we were being pretty competitive, even stooping pretty low at some points, but it was all in jest. He was so determined to beat me for the night, and is on the opposing team. So I pushed harder and sold 147 tonight. He got 74.
I'm sorry. All of that for just a little bit of bragging.
It was nice at end of shift when I was doing paper work; I went up to co-worker dude and was like, "Check it out man, we raised $221 in eight hours for kids who don't have shit." And we did a cool little hand shake/fist bump sort of thing.
The moral of the story. When standing in peril in front of a cash register, being asked to fork over another buck, on top of outrageous cigarette and food price gouging--, don't get pissed at the person behind the register (even if they ask you every time you see them), just say "No, sorry," don't make excuses, if you get a persistent and feisty one, such as I am, just smile and repeat, "No, sorry." If you do decide to help the less fortunate, make sure the charity is reputable and that 100% gets to them.
Oh, and yes, say it's a local spot, somewhere you go everyday, or week. Make sure you choose your favorite clerk and donate when they're ringing. Even if no incentive is offered, we keep track of this silliness. Even if we don't gloat about beating other workers, we still feel pride. And hell, then I, and all other people breathing down your neck to give a buck here, give a buck there, here a buck, there a buck, everywhere a buck buck-- we can walk out the door eight hours later feeling just a little less empty.