we live and learn but none the wiser grow.
So, sometime about thirteen years ago today I created an LJ account with a name that was so nonsensical that I couldn't fathom actually using it more than once. While there's other online aliases that I have, supersyncspaz7 has been the longest-running one. "super" was because it was my favorite adjective at the time (I think I even made a message board account called "Super Pickle"--what board, I don't even remember), "sync" because *NSYNC was on my mind most of that summer, "spaz" (I had no idea that in other places this is considered an offensive word) because somehow, that became a nickname a friend gave me, and "7" just to round it out and because it's my favorite number.
Anyway.
Things have not been pleasant for me lately. I mean, it's been okay, but let me try to consolidate the crap in one go:
The Store got remodeled, and our not-so new store director has been cutting hours left and right, resulting in footwear being trashed to hell and back for about two months straight. We lost four people to quitting and firing back in April, and we've had about five people quit since then; the department roster is down to about thirteen and may be ten by the end of next week, which is so not enough people to maintain the department at all.
Said store manager has also apparently stated that he wants The Store to be run like a "low volume store", which would be nice if we were not the only location in the mid-cities area and one of the biggest IN DFW. He also keeps track of where employees are parked and calls to tell people to move their cars ON HIS DAY OFF.
My job hunt is proving to be a disaster. Nothing in anything remotely related to broadcast has come to fruition, and in the past three weeks I've applied to a bunch of different retail places just so I can get off the sinking ship that is The Store. Wells Fargo, AT&T, Walgreens, and Barnes and Noble have all turned me down. I have considered, threatened, and fought the urge to walk out at least five times during this summer.
I've cried at work at least three times in the past two months. I hate it. I hate the department. I hate picking up shoes. I hate how narrow the aisles are. I hate knowing that I spent all those years in school and I still can't get out of that fucking store. I hate that it is a mess and that our sociopath of a store director is more concerned about where we're parking than about the fact that we can't find shit in our department. I hate knowing that not even fucking Starbucks wants to hire me, and I hate worrying that one day I'm going to snap and tell someone to go fuck themselves.
I hate that I apparently have no idea how to get a job and that I'm going to be stuck at this stupid sporting goods store for the rest of my life because I'm under-qualified for what I actually studied and apparently the fact that I've been at the same place I have been for eight years is too much for some other fucking store to handle.
I want to wake up and not hate my life. I want to feel like I've actually accomplished something in all these years besides waking up and not managing to die. And I can't and I haven't and all I want to do is take out the pathetic amount of money I have in my accounts and drive off somewhere that is not here and never come back, because what the hell is there for me here?
I don't think I can do this any more, and I don't know when I'm going to reach the point when it becomes unbearable.
This entry was originally posted at http://enamoured.dreamwidth.org/775623.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Anyway.
Things have not been pleasant for me lately. I mean, it's been okay, but let me try to consolidate the crap in one go:
The Store got remodeled, and our not-so new store director has been cutting hours left and right, resulting in footwear being trashed to hell and back for about two months straight. We lost four people to quitting and firing back in April, and we've had about five people quit since then; the department roster is down to about thirteen and may be ten by the end of next week, which is so not enough people to maintain the department at all.
Said store manager has also apparently stated that he wants The Store to be run like a "low volume store", which would be nice if we were not the only location in the mid-cities area and one of the biggest IN DFW. He also keeps track of where employees are parked and calls to tell people to move their cars ON HIS DAY OFF.
My job hunt is proving to be a disaster. Nothing in anything remotely related to broadcast has come to fruition, and in the past three weeks I've applied to a bunch of different retail places just so I can get off the sinking ship that is The Store. Wells Fargo, AT&T, Walgreens, and Barnes and Noble have all turned me down. I have considered, threatened, and fought the urge to walk out at least five times during this summer.
I've cried at work at least three times in the past two months. I hate it. I hate the department. I hate picking up shoes. I hate how narrow the aisles are. I hate knowing that I spent all those years in school and I still can't get out of that fucking store. I hate that it is a mess and that our sociopath of a store director is more concerned about where we're parking than about the fact that we can't find shit in our department. I hate knowing that not even fucking Starbucks wants to hire me, and I hate worrying that one day I'm going to snap and tell someone to go fuck themselves.
I hate that I apparently have no idea how to get a job and that I'm going to be stuck at this stupid sporting goods store for the rest of my life because I'm under-qualified for what I actually studied and apparently the fact that I've been at the same place I have been for eight years is too much for some other fucking store to handle.
I want to wake up and not hate my life. I want to feel like I've actually accomplished something in all these years besides waking up and not managing to die. And I can't and I haven't and all I want to do is take out the pathetic amount of money I have in my accounts and drive off somewhere that is not here and never come back, because what the hell is there for me here?
I don't think I can do this any more, and I don't know when I'm going to reach the point when it becomes unbearable.
This entry was originally posted at http://enamoured.dreamwidth.org/775623.html. Please comment there using OpenID.