randbaek

I think if I didn't have a bunny to feed I wouldn't get out of bed at all.

Not that Librarygirl isn't plenty of incentive, but unlike some people (not mentioning any names, but their initials are randbaek) she has a job. The kind where you go some place and do some things and are, in turn, rewarded through financial compensation.

I would love to be working again, even at a stupid, dead-end retail job. I would love to have that sort of purpose guiding my day, and the money wouldn't hurt either.

Unfortunately, as my sociopathology has worsened through the years, working with the public has gone from unpleasant to absolutely terrifying, and I say this without hyperbole.

Shortly before moving to Ontario I got a job running a Jugo Juice. There weren't all that many customers, but just the thought of having to go there in the morning and interact with the handful of customers I did have, and the interaction with my staff, (who were decent enough people whom I did not dislike) was enough to bring me to tears. It likely sounds ridiculous to people who aren't familiar with depression and/or social anxiety, but it really was that bad.

What's that you say? Why don't I just get a job that doesn't involve working with people?

Its a great idea, but do these jobs actually exist? Even if I were to get a job that didn't involve working with the public, there are still employers, other employees, job interviews and the sandwich guy at lunch to contend with. Plus, I have a decade of experience in retail and retail management, and nothing else.

Well, enough of my sad state of affairs, on a semi related note, I think I will recount some anecdotes from the earlier days of my illustrious retail career...

* * * * *

While working at an arcade....

Supervisor: Randbaek, I think that kid needs something.

Randbaek: They always do.

Supervisor: By which I mean to say help him now.

Randbaek: *sigh* (to kid) What?

Kid: Mister, that machine ate my quarters!

Randbaek: That's impossible.

Kid: Huh?

Randbaek: Its impossible that the machine ate your quarters.

Kid: Uh....why?

Randbaek: Because the machines don't eat quarters......they.....eat......CHILDREN!!!!!

Supervisor: Jesus Christ, Randbaek, are you retarded? Come here kid, I'll give you a refund.

Kid:..........

Another time.....

Supervisor: Randbaek do you have any idea how that basketball became imbedded in the ceiling pipes?

Randbaek: No idea whatsoever.

Supervisor: What if I told you I checked the security tapes and I saw you put it there.

Randbaek: I would say you are lying.

Supervisor: You're positive about that?

Randbaek: Of course. I specifically remember unplugging the security camera before I started throwing things into the ceiling fan.

When I used to run a jewellery kiosk......

Pretty Fly for a White Guy: hey man, are these watches real?

Randbaek: As opposed to imaginary?

Pretty Fly for a White Guy: Uh...what?

Randbaek: Never mind. Yes they are real.

Pretty Fly for a White Guy: Seriously?

Randbaek: Yes. That watch, which we are selling for under $30 is comprised entirely of real gold. The stones which you see encrusting the face are real diamonds. Even though such a watch would, by all laws of common sense, cost tens of thousands of dollars, we are selling it for less than $30.

Pretty Fly for a White Guy: I knew it wasn't real, man. You don't have to be a dick about it.

While working the night shift at Wal-Mart....

Night Manager: Randbaek, Why are all the happy face baloons hanging upside down?

Randbaek: Maybe they aren't all as happy as you would like them to be.

Night Manager: Are you a complete fucking idiot?

Randbaek: Is that a rhetorical question?

Night Manager: Uh....what?

Randbaek: Never mind. Can I go on break now?

Night Manager: Why don't you just go home?

Randbaek: Because I have a graduated liscence. I can't drive after midnight. I'll see you in 15.

* * * * * *

Well, its been a long day. I've been up for almost a whole hour. I think I'll watch Hell's Kitchen and make my way to bed. Good night everyone.