Ugh, general life rant/disgust and the occasional writers block. :(
*sigh* I hate doing these "vents" but, I don't know. I don't know where else TO empty this on so I guess it's here or continue to ferment until I explode into a sobbing, blubbering mess...
I'm a cashier of the local grocery store, and for the most part, I'm ok with it. It's a job and it helps pay the bills - whatever. the only part that genuinely sucks is 1) the hours suck, (10 hour shifts on my feet, what the fuck?) and even worse than number one, 2) the customers.
Now, I live in southwest Florida and as anyone who LIVES in this godawful state can tell you, most of the population consists of old people.
Now, this in itself is not a bad thing; Although I'm not a people person I do my best to be polite and respectful of other because hey, my parents taught me that respect works both ways and I don't want to be disrespected or have anyone be rude to me so... I do my best to be as considerate of everyone's feelings as I can be (minus becoming a doormat).
The thing that gets me is the level of sheer and utter rudeness I receive on a day-to-day basis. As I said, I'm a cashier - this isn't my dream job and I had to take off school this semester because I just wasn't making any hours to afford my bills while taking classes (I'm going to be 24 by the end of the month by the way).
But the old folks that come through my line treat me, and the other cashiers I work with like we're the scum of the entire Earth. We could make the slightest human error on the order and some of these people just go BATSHIT! Something as simple as an ad or coupon expiring the day before will send these people OVER THE EDGE! I've had to hold my hands up and say, "Ok, ok, calm down, it's being fixed, just stay calm... everything is going to be O.K. Nobody. panic."
Most of the times, such problems get fixed and everyone comes through more or less in one piece...
Until....
Something I consider ruder than anything happens...
I was born with a noticeable birthmark on my face. It's on the left side of my nose, beginning from the corner of my left eye and ending beneath the left nostril above my lip. It's bright red, though not AS bright as it used to be (most tend to fade away over time) but it's, well, it's there. Most of my friends don't even notice it and it's not really discussed because, well, what is there to say? Nothing.
I honestly don't give it a thought most of the time and I raaarrreeeelllyyyy wear makeup because I just don't care.
Anyway, the point of this rant: I find it absolutely irritating when someone asks me, "What in the world happened to your face?!"
I consider a question like this similar social faux pas of, "So when are you expecting?" to a fluffy lady.
And these are people I don't know and have no idea when I'll see them again!
Normally, I'll make up something of pure badassery, "I was in a knife fight. You should see the other guy!" or "My parents kicked me out of the house and I had to live in a scrap yard where I fought scrap gangs and became their leader, they call me Megan The Queen of Junk!" and my personal favorite, "I had a twin... Had." (What's hilarious is that they'll believe these. >:D )
But back to the point: They will either assume that I was in some kind of horrific attack and, without any sense to perhaps not dredge up possibly painful memories, they will ask what happen or, even worse, they'll assume it's a contagious rash and start suggesting which ointments to use and.... where they had their rashes and.... Eeeeeeuuugghhhhh *Cringes painfully* OH gods, so groooooosssssss!!!
And THEN when I EXPLAIN that it's JUST SOMETHING I WAS BORN WITH they treat me like I'm this emotionally fragile little girl (Have you ever heard of an 80 year old refer to adult women as "littler girls"? Eeeuuugghhhhh *shudder* Why do I have to deal with this?!) and ask me when/if I'll get it removed or suggest what makeup would hide it and when I explain that I don't really care enough to remove because it doesn't bother me in the slightest (note: it's just customers being incredibly rude that bothers me) they'll praise me for my courage and... being... strong... and... all sorts of... uplifting and... stuff...
And I'm just thinking, "What the fuh...? I'm just standing here ringing your order, ya dumb broad!"
What's even worse is that it's normally WOMEN who bring it up! The only time when guys ask are the young boys that are with their parents but that's it.
It boggles my mind how everyone can say that "Beauty is only skin deep" and "The outside doesn't matter - it's what's INSIDE that counts! :D" and then still comment on my appearance.
And what's really bad is that because of my company's policy us employees are supposed to just grin and bear it. We can't argue with customers no matter HOW INFURIATING they become like this guy the other day who made homophobic remarks and even said "lesbo" in front of one of my baggers who happens to be a lesbian. We can't politely ask them to "please shut the fuck up" (imagine that in a polite, sophisticated, non-internet way).
We have to just put up with it. We have to just let them talk down to us like we're fucking dirt, criticize our appearances and shit on us for our sexual orientation. It's not fair! It's BULLSHIT!
And This! This is what we have to deal with after standing on our feet for 10 fucking hours, listening to the same god damn noise, have to deal with every order to the specifics of the most finicky customer, get yelled at by our managers for not greeting a guest with a smile and introducing ourselves EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. or get pulled aside and be told off when we don't take a cart BY THE HANDLE and THEN take TWO STEPS TOWARDS THE DOOR and THEN ask to help the customer out. GOD!!! FUCKING!!! DAMN IT!!!
AAAAUUUGGHHHHHHHH!!!! *Becomes rage*
*sits in a corner and breathes in a brown paper sack*
Ok. Sorry about that. Didn't mean to just fly off the handle there... Just... ugh.... Holy fuckola.... I hate it so much... :'(
And the absolute worse part about all of this? The thing that's making my life utter hell? All of this is affecting my writing. I'm stressed that I'll get pulled aside and get a "talk" for the most minor infraction and/or have to deal and the rudest, nastiest, customers who also happen to smell bad! But that's another story, nevermind.
I'm stuck on my latest chapter of my fanfic, but granted I've said that the last two chapters but it's happened again. Everytime I open it, I'm just poking at it with a stick and trying to get it to move but it's not working. I don't want to have to take another hiatus on it because I want to finish the story and continue on with my other fictions.... whine... whine, whine, whine. Mope, mope, mope.
I'm thinking about possibly rping as a possible solution but I'm more concerned with whether or not I can keep up with it. I get really possessive and controlling of MY writing/stories and I'm worried about myself becoming to much of a director and making orders to make a story go a certain way which is why I stick to own works. *shrugs* anyone have any idea of how I can get over this block?
So... that's kind of the jist there I guess. Sorry about the long, crazy sounding post. :(
eheh.... yeeeeaaahhhh... *slinks behind furniture.*
I'm a cashier of the local grocery store, and for the most part, I'm ok with it. It's a job and it helps pay the bills - whatever. the only part that genuinely sucks is 1) the hours suck, (10 hour shifts on my feet, what the fuck?) and even worse than number one, 2) the customers.
Now, I live in southwest Florida and as anyone who LIVES in this godawful state can tell you, most of the population consists of old people.
Now, this in itself is not a bad thing; Although I'm not a people person I do my best to be polite and respectful of other because hey, my parents taught me that respect works both ways and I don't want to be disrespected or have anyone be rude to me so... I do my best to be as considerate of everyone's feelings as I can be (minus becoming a doormat).
The thing that gets me is the level of sheer and utter rudeness I receive on a day-to-day basis. As I said, I'm a cashier - this isn't my dream job and I had to take off school this semester because I just wasn't making any hours to afford my bills while taking classes (I'm going to be 24 by the end of the month by the way).
But the old folks that come through my line treat me, and the other cashiers I work with like we're the scum of the entire Earth. We could make the slightest human error on the order and some of these people just go BATSHIT! Something as simple as an ad or coupon expiring the day before will send these people OVER THE EDGE! I've had to hold my hands up and say, "Ok, ok, calm down, it's being fixed, just stay calm... everything is going to be O.K. Nobody. panic."
Most of the times, such problems get fixed and everyone comes through more or less in one piece...
Until....
Something I consider ruder than anything happens...
I was born with a noticeable birthmark on my face. It's on the left side of my nose, beginning from the corner of my left eye and ending beneath the left nostril above my lip. It's bright red, though not AS bright as it used to be (most tend to fade away over time) but it's, well, it's there. Most of my friends don't even notice it and it's not really discussed because, well, what is there to say? Nothing.
I honestly don't give it a thought most of the time and I raaarrreeeelllyyyy wear makeup because I just don't care.
Anyway, the point of this rant: I find it absolutely irritating when someone asks me, "What in the world happened to your face?!"
I consider a question like this similar social faux pas of, "So when are you expecting?" to a fluffy lady.
And these are people I don't know and have no idea when I'll see them again!
Normally, I'll make up something of pure badassery, "I was in a knife fight. You should see the other guy!" or "My parents kicked me out of the house and I had to live in a scrap yard where I fought scrap gangs and became their leader, they call me Megan The Queen of Junk!" and my personal favorite, "I had a twin... Had." (What's hilarious is that they'll believe these. >:D )
But back to the point: They will either assume that I was in some kind of horrific attack and, without any sense to perhaps not dredge up possibly painful memories, they will ask what happen or, even worse, they'll assume it's a contagious rash and start suggesting which ointments to use and.... where they had their rashes and.... Eeeeeeuuugghhhhh *Cringes painfully* OH gods, so groooooosssssss!!!
And THEN when I EXPLAIN that it's JUST SOMETHING I WAS BORN WITH they treat me like I'm this emotionally fragile little girl (Have you ever heard of an 80 year old refer to adult women as "littler girls"? Eeeuuugghhhhh *shudder* Why do I have to deal with this?!) and ask me when/if I'll get it removed or suggest what makeup would hide it and when I explain that I don't really care enough to remove because it doesn't bother me in the slightest (note: it's just customers being incredibly rude that bothers me) they'll praise me for my courage and... being... strong... and... all sorts of... uplifting and... stuff...
And I'm just thinking, "What the fuh...? I'm just standing here ringing your order, ya dumb broad!"
What's even worse is that it's normally WOMEN who bring it up! The only time when guys ask are the young boys that are with their parents but that's it.
It boggles my mind how everyone can say that "Beauty is only skin deep" and "The outside doesn't matter - it's what's INSIDE that counts! :D" and then still comment on my appearance.
And what's really bad is that because of my company's policy us employees are supposed to just grin and bear it. We can't argue with customers no matter HOW INFURIATING they become like this guy the other day who made homophobic remarks and even said "lesbo" in front of one of my baggers who happens to be a lesbian. We can't politely ask them to "please shut the fuck up" (imagine that in a polite, sophisticated, non-internet way).
We have to just put up with it. We have to just let them talk down to us like we're fucking dirt, criticize our appearances and shit on us for our sexual orientation. It's not fair! It's BULLSHIT!
And This! This is what we have to deal with after standing on our feet for 10 fucking hours, listening to the same god damn noise, have to deal with every order to the specifics of the most finicky customer, get yelled at by our managers for not greeting a guest with a smile and introducing ourselves EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. or get pulled aside and be told off when we don't take a cart BY THE HANDLE and THEN take TWO STEPS TOWARDS THE DOOR and THEN ask to help the customer out. GOD!!! FUCKING!!! DAMN IT!!!
AAAAUUUGGHHHHHHHH!!!! *Becomes rage*
*sits in a corner and breathes in a brown paper sack*
Ok. Sorry about that. Didn't mean to just fly off the handle there... Just... ugh.... Holy fuckola.... I hate it so much... :'(
And the absolute worse part about all of this? The thing that's making my life utter hell? All of this is affecting my writing. I'm stressed that I'll get pulled aside and get a "talk" for the most minor infraction and/or have to deal and the rudest, nastiest, customers who also happen to smell bad! But that's another story, nevermind.
I'm stuck on my latest chapter of my fanfic, but granted I've said that the last two chapters but it's happened again. Everytime I open it, I'm just poking at it with a stick and trying to get it to move but it's not working. I don't want to have to take another hiatus on it because I want to finish the story and continue on with my other fictions.... whine... whine, whine, whine. Mope, mope, mope.
I'm thinking about possibly rping as a possible solution but I'm more concerned with whether or not I can keep up with it. I get really possessive and controlling of MY writing/stories and I'm worried about myself becoming to much of a director and making orders to make a story go a certain way which is why I stick to own works. *shrugs* anyone have any idea of how I can get over this block?
So... that's kind of the jist there I guess. Sorry about the long, crazy sounding post. :(
eheh.... yeeeeaaahhhh... *slinks behind furniture.*