(no subject)
Well, today was one of a kind.
There's a Vons in the same shopping center from my Round Table, about a stones throw away. I make frequent trips because we frequently run out of stock. Everything from bread to green onions, ranch and antibiotics; if it's purchaseable at Vons then I've probably bought it.
Because of this I've become acquainted with the checkers at Vons. There's a lanky geek with excellent customer service who remembers my cigarettes so that I don't have to keep repeating "Newport Shorts! Newport Shorts!" because Vons checkers and baggers seem to be out of place with eachother when it comes to communication.
I swear that everytime I've had to ask for cigarettes I say "And, can I have a pack of Newport Shorts, please?"
And, the checker will says 'sure' and look at the bagger (after rolling her eyes) and say, 'Hey, Newport Shorts.'
And, the bagger won't be paying attention, so she'll say it again, "HEY. Newport Shorts."
And, the bagger will finally realize he/she's being spoken to and will finally cock her head and look at the checker and say, 'Oh, what?'
And, the checker will say, 'Newport Shorts!'
And, then the bagger will finally walk behind the back counter and get to the cabinet and then look back at the checker and repeat, 'Newport Shorts?'
And, the checker will say 'NEWPORT SHORTS!' and I'll nod and then he'll come back with the cigarettes.
I'll be Goddamned if this doesn't happen every single time. God strike me dead if I'm being even slightly hyperbolic. But, because of my skinny checker I don't have to go through these pains a good 90% of the time.
And, then of course there's the bitchy mexican checker that I sometimes get, but I can't blame her for being unpleasant looking and depressed. I hate my work probably as much as she does, so I kind of feel for her.
And, then there's this bagger that always happens to be working the same time that I do. He's this hispanic guy in his early 30s, kind of a big guy, with this really goofy look on his face. He's eyes are always bloodshot, but he's always smiling so I smile back. He's very often my checker so he'll say, 'Hey, Amy' staring at my name tag (aka my boobs) and I'll say, 'Oh, hey!' because, I don't know his name and haven't bothered to check. And, he'll ask 'So, how are things over there? Crazy?' and I'll say, 'Oh, yeah. Same old shit everyday.' And, he'll say, 'Ha ha, that's too bad' ALWAYS SMILING in an almost creepy way. And, then I'll say 'Well, I better get back before they burn the place down' and he'll say 'SMILEYSMILEY Well, that sounds good. Have a good day, alright?' And, I'll say 'Alright.'
Now, this is systematic of a problem I carry with me. What ends up happening is that when I'm not at work and out of my uniform I am so accustomed to be courteous that I am way too friendly than I should be with everybody. I forget I'm not on shift and so people shouldn't -expect- me to be bending over backwards to be accomodating and pleasant. But, when I -am- in my uniform I make it a point to be smiley and happy to people when I'm not actually in our restaurant, because it still reflects on our store and I don't want someone to be turned away because I was a total bitch at Vons.
For the first couple of weeks he'd always just say, 'Hey, Amy' with this sentimental smile on his face. I had this feeling that maybe he was interested in me, because he'd make it a point to say hello and ask how my day was and what I've been up to, but I shrugged it off as decency and kind of left it at that.
So, today we ran out of onions again (or, whatever else bullshit) so I was off to the store. This time he was outside in that neon cart-collecting vest that everyone has to wear. I said hey and he stretched out his arms to hug me, so I gave him a side hug. He did this wierd thing where he, like, grabbed or poked my back. I was kind of like, '...Okay.'
I went inside, got the goods and thought, 'You know, what do I do if he asks me out?' Because, I've never had that happen. Certainly not by a male. And, I just had this instinctive notion that if I saw him again he would ask me out. I've never had anyone tell me 'Hey, would you like to go out sometime?' So, thusly, I've never had to figure out what I would say or do.
I finished paying and went back outside. He was still there. I said 'later' and walked onto my store. Then I hear, 'Amy!' and I turn around. It's him. He walks over to me and he says 'So, how old are you?'
I tell him I'm 21. And, then he says something...very creepy: 'Oh, you're just a baby then.'
I was like, '...Yeah, I guess I am.'
'Are you married?'
'..No..'
'Engaged?'
'..No..'
'Have any kids?'
'..No..'
'Oh, well. Uh. Do you like to drink?'
I said, 'Well, not really' knowing damn well my inclination was to get off work and buy a beer.
'Well, I mean. Sometimes I do. Occasionally.'
'Oh, occasionally? Well, uh. Would you like to maybe go for a drink sometime?'
And, I suddenly felt very sad for him but somewhat flattered. Here I am at work, looking as beastly as I'll ever be. And, this guy wants to take me out for a drink. I kind of looked down and fiddled in my pockets and finally just looked up and said, 'Well, uh. I mean. Well, I'm gay...'
He said, 'Engaged?!'
I was like, 'Nono. Gay. I'm gay.'
'Ohhh, gay. Ohh' and he kind of laughed it off and then said 'darn.' I was like, 'Yeah, Dude, I'm sorry. I mean, I'm flattered, but.'
And, he said, 'Nono. It's fine, you know. You have a good day' and I said the same back. And, that was it.
Now, I'll admit. Even though it came from a guy I would never in my life date and/or consider being in public in, it was somewhat flattering. I mean, no make up, no shower and in a Round Table uniform...I'm sure I was looking hot. But, then immediately after I was disappointed he hadn't been somewhat more...attractive. Or, my type. Or, even in my immediate age range.
Had he been one of those then I would have jumped on the chance. But, of course he wasn't. So, maybemaybemaybe. One day. I'll actually start dating again. And, hopefully it won't be thirty year old checker who works at Vons.
But, all of this shit is just draining and foolish and I very often can't believe this is my life. Here I am, knowing damn well I am worth more than a fast food pizza place and thirty year old hispanics, but there I am. Everyday. Working. I see the same nonsense assholes everyday and put up with the same brainless bullshit for hours on end. Had I never decided to leave Santa Cruz in a frantic, angry rush than I could be going on my senior year in September. I would have one year left and then a BA. I could be accomplishing my dream (at the cost of a very high student loan debt), being with people, having friends who interest me and dating someone I was interested in. I would be healthy and productive. But, that's all just distant. I'm still here just struggling to have a piece of fun. And, not be hit on by hispanics.
Seriously.
There's a Vons in the same shopping center from my Round Table, about a stones throw away. I make frequent trips because we frequently run out of stock. Everything from bread to green onions, ranch and antibiotics; if it's purchaseable at Vons then I've probably bought it.
Because of this I've become acquainted with the checkers at Vons. There's a lanky geek with excellent customer service who remembers my cigarettes so that I don't have to keep repeating "Newport Shorts! Newport Shorts!" because Vons checkers and baggers seem to be out of place with eachother when it comes to communication.
I swear that everytime I've had to ask for cigarettes I say "And, can I have a pack of Newport Shorts, please?"
And, the checker will says 'sure' and look at the bagger (after rolling her eyes) and say, 'Hey, Newport Shorts.'
And, the bagger won't be paying attention, so she'll say it again, "HEY. Newport Shorts."
And, the bagger will finally realize he/she's being spoken to and will finally cock her head and look at the checker and say, 'Oh, what?'
And, the checker will say, 'Newport Shorts!'
And, then the bagger will finally walk behind the back counter and get to the cabinet and then look back at the checker and repeat, 'Newport Shorts?'
And, the checker will say 'NEWPORT SHORTS!' and I'll nod and then he'll come back with the cigarettes.
I'll be Goddamned if this doesn't happen every single time. God strike me dead if I'm being even slightly hyperbolic. But, because of my skinny checker I don't have to go through these pains a good 90% of the time.
And, then of course there's the bitchy mexican checker that I sometimes get, but I can't blame her for being unpleasant looking and depressed. I hate my work probably as much as she does, so I kind of feel for her.
And, then there's this bagger that always happens to be working the same time that I do. He's this hispanic guy in his early 30s, kind of a big guy, with this really goofy look on his face. He's eyes are always bloodshot, but he's always smiling so I smile back. He's very often my checker so he'll say, 'Hey, Amy' staring at my name tag (aka my boobs) and I'll say, 'Oh, hey!' because, I don't know his name and haven't bothered to check. And, he'll ask 'So, how are things over there? Crazy?' and I'll say, 'Oh, yeah. Same old shit everyday.' And, he'll say, 'Ha ha, that's too bad' ALWAYS SMILING in an almost creepy way. And, then I'll say 'Well, I better get back before they burn the place down' and he'll say 'SMILEYSMILEY Well, that sounds good. Have a good day, alright?' And, I'll say 'Alright.'
Now, this is systematic of a problem I carry with me. What ends up happening is that when I'm not at work and out of my uniform I am so accustomed to be courteous that I am way too friendly than I should be with everybody. I forget I'm not on shift and so people shouldn't -expect- me to be bending over backwards to be accomodating and pleasant. But, when I -am- in my uniform I make it a point to be smiley and happy to people when I'm not actually in our restaurant, because it still reflects on our store and I don't want someone to be turned away because I was a total bitch at Vons.
For the first couple of weeks he'd always just say, 'Hey, Amy' with this sentimental smile on his face. I had this feeling that maybe he was interested in me, because he'd make it a point to say hello and ask how my day was and what I've been up to, but I shrugged it off as decency and kind of left it at that.
So, today we ran out of onions again (or, whatever else bullshit) so I was off to the store. This time he was outside in that neon cart-collecting vest that everyone has to wear. I said hey and he stretched out his arms to hug me, so I gave him a side hug. He did this wierd thing where he, like, grabbed or poked my back. I was kind of like, '...Okay.'
I went inside, got the goods and thought, 'You know, what do I do if he asks me out?' Because, I've never had that happen. Certainly not by a male. And, I just had this instinctive notion that if I saw him again he would ask me out. I've never had anyone tell me 'Hey, would you like to go out sometime?' So, thusly, I've never had to figure out what I would say or do.
I finished paying and went back outside. He was still there. I said 'later' and walked onto my store. Then I hear, 'Amy!' and I turn around. It's him. He walks over to me and he says 'So, how old are you?'
I tell him I'm 21. And, then he says something...very creepy: 'Oh, you're just a baby then.'
I was like, '...Yeah, I guess I am.'
'Are you married?'
'..No..'
'Engaged?'
'..No..'
'Have any kids?'
'..No..'
'Oh, well. Uh. Do you like to drink?'
I said, 'Well, not really' knowing damn well my inclination was to get off work and buy a beer.
'Well, I mean. Sometimes I do. Occasionally.'
'Oh, occasionally? Well, uh. Would you like to maybe go for a drink sometime?'
And, I suddenly felt very sad for him but somewhat flattered. Here I am at work, looking as beastly as I'll ever be. And, this guy wants to take me out for a drink. I kind of looked down and fiddled in my pockets and finally just looked up and said, 'Well, uh. I mean. Well, I'm gay...'
He said, 'Engaged?!'
I was like, 'Nono. Gay. I'm gay.'
'Ohhh, gay. Ohh' and he kind of laughed it off and then said 'darn.' I was like, 'Yeah, Dude, I'm sorry. I mean, I'm flattered, but.'
And, he said, 'Nono. It's fine, you know. You have a good day' and I said the same back. And, that was it.
Now, I'll admit. Even though it came from a guy I would never in my life date and/or consider being in public in, it was somewhat flattering. I mean, no make up, no shower and in a Round Table uniform...I'm sure I was looking hot. But, then immediately after I was disappointed he hadn't been somewhat more...attractive. Or, my type. Or, even in my immediate age range.
Had he been one of those then I would have jumped on the chance. But, of course he wasn't. So, maybemaybemaybe. One day. I'll actually start dating again. And, hopefully it won't be thirty year old checker who works at Vons.
But, all of this shit is just draining and foolish and I very often can't believe this is my life. Here I am, knowing damn well I am worth more than a fast food pizza place and thirty year old hispanics, but there I am. Everyday. Working. I see the same nonsense assholes everyday and put up with the same brainless bullshit for hours on end. Had I never decided to leave Santa Cruz in a frantic, angry rush than I could be going on my senior year in September. I would have one year left and then a BA. I could be accomplishing my dream (at the cost of a very high student loan debt), being with people, having friends who interest me and dating someone I was interested in. I would be healthy and productive. But, that's all just distant. I'm still here just struggling to have a piece of fun. And, not be hit on by hispanics.
Seriously.