A Day In The Life

Taking life one day at a time...and hoping shit doesn't hit the fan ten years down the road.

[ja-ma-na]

A Day In The Life of A Sales Associate: When Your Day Goes To Shit. Literally, Shit.

Of all the stories I've accumulated throughout my ongoing stint as a sales associate, I think it's safe to say a definite theme has made itself clear. This theme is shit.

No. I mean it in the most literal sense. S-H-I-T

Let me explain how, of all the metaphorical shit that goes down, a hell of a lot has to do with actual bona fide fecal matter (and other bodily fluids. Unfortunately.).

The first encounter I had of the excrement kind was when a man brought out a pair of Levi's from the dressing room and approached me at the registers.

"Hey...uh, I don't think these pants are any good." He said.

Of course I plaster a convincing smile on my face and hope he can't taste the air of annoyance and apprehension suddenly coming off of me in waves, "Ok." I say, "What's the problem?"

He holds out the pants kinda funny and points to the leg,

"I took these in to try them on when I noticed the stains. I'm not sure what it is. But I don't think these are sellable." I bet the man's being politely oblivious, but I sure as hell know what that is.

The pant legs are streaked in...shit.

Definitely damaging those.

* * *

Next: For whatever reason, finding the restrooms on our level is ridiculously hard. The number one question we get AT ALL times is,

"Where are the restrooms (or washrooms) (or lounges) (or wash-closets) (Or whatever else people call them)"

Granted, it's the easiest question to answer, so most of the time I'm relieved they're asking for the restrooms and not, like.... an Alfani pin-striped, slim fit, 100% wool suit in a size 36R. That would make my life very difficult.

Anyway, across from where the restrooms are, there's a bay area where employees can access the back room for supplies, etc., but for some reason some customers have thought that corners in said bay area = toilets.

Needless to say, slipping on piss on your way to get bags for the registers is not fun. At all. Ever.

* * * 

Not so directly related to bodily functions, but still horrifically annoying and gross, was the time I asked a man how he was doing as I was passing him by. He was very nice and chatty,

"I'm great! Thanks for asking. How are you?" It's always nice when customers ask back, and I was surprised to find that this gentleman was very attentive and pleasant,

"I'm well, thanks." I said, and then the usual spiel: Can I help you find anything in particular today? Etc. etc. etc....

"No, but I thought I'd let you know that I was in the restrooms earlier and their was a syringe sticking out of the toilet seat. Like, kinda at an angle, but someone could probably still hurt themselves on it."

Oh. There's the kicker.

The way in which he delivered this disturbing news, so jovially, as if he were talking about the weather, had me thinking I'd heard him wrong. But no. I hadn't.

"...I'll get on that." I grimaced.

Syringes. In a public restroom. Jammed into a toilet seat. I get that's not exactly unheard of or even uncommon, especially in the city. But, come on. Come on.

Keep it classy. And give your friendly neighborhood sales associate a big fucking headache. Thank you very much.

I've officially lost faith in humanity.

* * *

Periods. Menstrual cycles. Aunt Flo(w). Monthlies. HELL

It's a natural process, sure. It's gross, definitely sure. But a natural, healthy bodily function. And, as a woman, I can say, I understand.

BUT DON'T FUCKING BLEED ALL OVER A FITTING ROOM.

1) It's disgusting! 2) It's a fuckin' bio hazard! 3) It's DISGUSTING! 4) There is no word adequate enough to describe the horror of it. Not even disgusting.

Also, accidents happen. Ok. But at the very least, OWN UP TO IT. Apparently, this lady just walked off, leaving the fitting room looking like the scene of a massacre.

Seriously. I thought someone lost a limb in there or something. Until my fellow associate told me, no, some lady had "woman problems". Is explosive period a thing?

Retail has proven it so. 

* * *

Lastly, customers are also very fond of changing out their old underwear for a new pair in the fitting rooms. Easiest swipe in the book, I bet, but still........please don't do it while I'm on the clock.

I pulled out a Guess leather jacket from the fitting rooms and was on my way to put it back on the floor when I noticed the zipped up pocket on one side was bulging. Creepy.

I unzipped it, but didn't dare put my hand inside. Peeking out at me was a weird mustard-yellow, feathery-patterned something-or-other.

After retrieving rubber gloves, said ugly yellow thing was pulled out of the pocket and revealed to be......disgusting used boxers.

The jacket was definitely damaged and tossed out.

Why do people have to be so nasty? And why go out of your way to conceal the dirty under after swapping them out? Just leave them in a corner or something. If I hadn't caught it, some poor customer might've gotten scarred for life. And, while some customers sure make me want to sell all my possessions and live as a hermit in some deep remote forest, I do like my job, and I do like most of my customers. 

So, generally, I really would want to spare shoppers from discovering dirty underwear in their newly purchased super-expensive leather Guess jacket. Scout's honor.

* * *

So. To shit or not to shit. While in a department store, please refrain. Even if you intend on doing your business in a designated area with no desire to pee, bleed, or stuff used underwear (or syringes) in things that are not meant to be peed, bled, or stuffed on/in, please DON'T. It's just safest that way.

Of all the things us sales associates have to see and put up with, those things should not be part of it. So please don't. Don't.

Just a humble request on behalf of an associate who has too much hands-on-experience with both literal and metaphorical shit.

Thanks.

[ja-ma-na]

I'm applying to fuck with chemicals, and applying to be a leader of thirty people who, under my watch, will be fucking with chemicals.

A Chemistry Major upon finishing the application for becoming a TA. The joy and utter confusion of higher education has been made clear.

[ja-ma-na]

I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask them where they're goin', and hook up with them later.

Mitch Hedberg

[ja-ma-na]

"A career is like a house: it's made of many bricks, and each brick has the same value, because without any one of them, the house would collapse."

— Andrea Bocelli

I want my future career to look like this baby right here. A college kid can dream, right?

And lay brick, I guess. One damn tiny piece at a time. Slowly but surely.

[ja-ma-na]

Ok, so can I just say that the designers for these book covers seriously lack some creativity. They all look the same, for fuck's sake.

"Baby, I'm about to kiss you, and it'll be so good..." But, no, not really.

The whole romantic genre is a bit cliche though...so I suppose my expectations shouldn't be set so high.

[ja-ma-na]

A slice of paradise is all I need,

A slice of paradise is all everyone needs.

♥          ♥          ♥

[ja-ma-na]

“Every step of the road was just as she'd dreamt it all the time she'd been away. Every step took her further away from the smoke and the noise and the loneliness and fear of the city she'd left behind. Every step drew her deeper into the hollows of the landscape, the green hills and shining rivers and mist-tangled treetops.” ― Jon McGregor, So Many Ways to Begin

[ja-ma-na]

Joan Miro inspired carpet...

[ja-ma-na]

Black cat staring me down...

[ja-ma-na]

When we're old, as old as the trees, will you still walk with me? Through the city, over the countryside...wherever we may be, will you still walk with me?

Whoever you are, will you still walk with me?

[ja-ma-na]

Night's Visage

The flaming crest of the sun bows its head

And mortals close their eyes as dark comes down.

While the heavens wake the stars from their bed,

The sky slips into her ebony gown.

The moon climbs to its nocturnal vigil,

And makes the earth sweet with its silver glow.

The worries of the world are turned fickle

In the face of night’s celestial show.

Alas! As wondrous as midnight might be,

Sometimes evil will scheme under its cloak.

It is the witching hour some would agree,

For distrust the dark does seem to evoke.

            But, in sum, night’s visage is pure, sublime.

It is free of all mortal vice or crime.

[ja-ma-na]

OF TREES

They’ve got long arms, and they have fat fingers that come straight out of their skinny, long arms. The arms stick straight up to the sky, and the fat fingers look like they’re grasping desperately for the elusive sun. The sun comes and goes as it pleases, mostly denying them. If they had voices, they’d moan in despair. Often the wind will lend them its voice, but even the wind abandons them eventually.

The skinny arms and fat fingers prefer to stay in large groups, waving around at each other. They will sometimes caress each other’s arms in gentle consolation as well. They are all related to each other and possess one heart. Although they are constantly reaching for warmth, they are stubborn and will not move to find it. Which is a good thing, because even if they wanted to leave they couldn’t; they are too well rooted to ever move except in death.

The fat fingers never point; they always seem to be poised in mid action, but they are incapable of pointing fingers. Their arms are of different colors, black and white. Their groups are usually either black or white. They have ears to hear with, but they don’t listen to words, just actions. They like to race each other, but no one ever wins. They like to watch, and if they had voices that could be heard, I’d imagine they’d like to gossip. They are forgiving, but largely indifferent to the things around them.

The skinny arms are constantly hungry and the fat fingers are constantly eating. The arms don’t mind though; they have always been made to carry the most weight, they are used to it. Although the arms and fingers are mostly one and the same, their relationship is parasitic. One takes from the other without giving back. But their eternal quest for the sun, for fulfillment, distracts them from ever rioting against each other.

They will remain when other things have passed. Like mountains, they will reach and grasp for a very long time.

[ja-ma-na]

Gray Cityscape

[ja-ma-na]

My Soul

My soul is a sea of rolling waves.

My fleshy tomb is subject to its violent whims.

My trivial conscience is struck dumb by its might.

My inner demons, born of my meaty brain, drown in its throes of passion and turmoil.

What lies beneath its roiling crests is quiet, tranquil, abstract, and hidden.

It is impenetrable by my mere mortality.

It is mine, although not mine.

It is free, but caged by my inability to understand it.

My seldom split-second grasps of what my soul is does nothing more than create fading ripples along its constantly moving surface.

It is at once maddening, but also comforting: If I knew what my soul was, I would go mad.

The boiling, unpredictable waters are quelled at times, by small things that are natural and inherent to it, the sun, the flowers before they bloom, inexplicable human kindness.

I am reduced to a child-like state in order for it to be sated, in order for it to grow momentarily satisfied.

  There is a boat that successfully charters my soul’s sea, coming from the larger ocean beyond, but its nature is even more hidden to me than myself…

[ja-ma-na]

1. "Open"

2. Assortment of forgotten strings

[ja-ma-na]

If The Sky Be Heaven

If the sky be heaven

And the earth below the realm of man,

Then are our stars of neon lights

And twinkling panes of glass

The heaven to a world below us?

Our twinkling lights might be a sky,

And to whom does the realm below our sky belong?

What is it a sky to?

And is it an earth too?

As man can fall from the sky, from heaven,

Can man tumble from our earth

Through the sky below?

What nature of man would he be then?

Is this a nature in him already?

And just as we fly on metal wings

In search of some heavenly glimpse,

Some skyward, upward justification, realization…

Do we find nothing?

And what if there is no above, no sky, no heaven?

And nothing below, no earth, no hell?

What if Man is nothing?

And there is nothing at all?

[ja-ma-na]

Veg-tastic!