Ramblings from the outside of nowhere

I'm so tired

I'm so sore

I won't do it for a nickle anymore

15 cents is now my price

For 25, I'll do it twice

You want a shoe shine?

That is just a little silly I remember from jr. high. I am tired and sore. It frustrates me that I'm not capable of doing all the stuff I used to do when I was 30. Last night, at work, I took instruction from an 18 year old girl, who bailed on me at 8:00 pm, as she was sick and had to go party with her boyfriend. She called the manager and got the ok. So here I am, second day on the new and improved cash register, and its megamillion lottery night.

I have determined that I hate the lottery. It should be the one that Shirley Jackson wrote about, and only applied to members of congress. I hate hot dogs, and Nacho's, and big bites, big cheeseburger bits, and the other god-awful looking crap that rotates on the grill. Don't eat that stuff, ever! When I worked for this establishment before, if something on the grill looked "overdone" we tossed it. Not today. That sucker stays on there until it is sold. It might have been sitting there all day. So just keep that in mind.

I do not play the lottery. I have never heard of megamillions. I agree with Jeff Foxworthy. The lottery is the redneck solution to a retirement account. In this state, gambling is illegal. Well, what the hell do they think the lottery is? You pay a certain amount of money to play numbers. Seems this used to be called a numbers racket.

I only had two mean customers. One young man could not pump his gas on pump three, which was prepaid and turned on. He came in the store, did his little dance of joy, and I told him I could give him his money back, or restart the pump. He voiced his opinion, to the glee of the ten customers in line, and ran out the door. When I checked on him, he was pumping his gas. Another lady, handing over about 4 lottery cards, waited while I ran them through the machine, and when I collected her money, I placed her tickets on the counter. Her hands were in her purse. She looked at me, and said, "Put them in my hand." I said ok. She looked at me like I had committed a crime. My main goal was to get the people waited on, so they could get the hell out, but I guess she considered this an opportunity to make a statement.

What I discovered from all of this, is I don't care. If people want to get a rise out of me, they will be mistaken. I have reached the point in my life where stupid comments just don't bother me anymore. I just say ok, and they seem to deflate just a little. I have also decided that I am not going to kill myself for this job. Meaning, it is just a job, not a career. Oh, you can make it a career, for sure. A lot of managers in high traffic areas can pull in six figures a year, due to the sales and the percentage they get.

All in all I think I did ok. No one shot me, no one threatened me, I got out of the store alive, and even did a shift change, in the wrong order, but I did it.

The frosting on the cake came when I got home. My son and his friend, who lives with us, and seems to be unable to find satisfactory employment, gave me until 12:00 am to get home, and then called the store. The young lady who answered the phone told them, "You mean the older lady with the short hair? I think she just left." Oh, rude awakening!! And here I thought no one noticed I was past my prime. Actually, I laughed my head off when I heard it. If you act tough, teens are afraid of old ladies. All in all, I would have enjoyed it, if my back wasn't notifying my legs the whole time that, hey, remember that spinal thing going on? Let me remind you.

On a different note, my son's fiance moved out, left all of her stuff, wouldn't return any of his calls, and is now coming today to collect her belongings. I can see the good times coming. I kept telling him this was passive agressive behavior, but it didn't make a difference until he finally talked to her, and she said it was all irrelavent. I have lived with this kind of person, for about 19 years, as a matter of fact, and it sucks. After about 15, I decided I wasn't playing the guessing game anymore. "I'm mad but you'll have to guess what it's about." I finally said, after a year of therapy, fuck this, and went on about my life. I taught myself not to care, and that was the beginning of the end. I paid for my divorce. I got nothing from the said divorce, but my freedom and my kids. There was no child support, or alimony, or any of that other shit. My sons and I experienced the other side of the coin. Instead of, "Mom, there's this girl at school who pays for things with food stamps!" I said don't judge them, because there but the grace of God, go you!" After the divorce, it was, "Mom, when do you get the food stamps?"

In a way, I am glad they experienced the other side. I think it showed them that you have to work for what you want. That not everyone lives on $60,000 a year. That judging people because of their income is stupid. As they grew older, they were able to relate to all kinds of people, and accept them for who they were, and not where they came from. Which is a good thing.

So, adopting my oldest son's favorite saying, "If your gonna act tough, you gotta be tough", I will continue with my new job. No matter how much my back complains, or whatever happens, damn it all, I will do it. I am a very stubborn person.