BAD blogger! BAD!

I haven't blogged in over a month?





You see the depravity of the human heart in public places. You see it most in Wal-Mart. You scan item, after item, after item. Monotonous beeps continue to push you further into a coma where you hope to remain until your eight hour shift is over. Sometimes people are polite to you and you feel bad for not paying attention. It's people like that who remind you to stay on top of your game; do your job and treat people like they're human beings, not cattle. You smile and kindly say to the next person in line, "hello, hows it going?"
Of course the next customer is a foreigner who doesn't speak English and doesn't want to communicate anything with you, or you to them except their total. You slip, once more, into the abyss of day dreams, beeps fading into soft hums that you no longer hear.

You get embarrassed when your day dreams turn into memories of the stupid things you did in front of customers like combine greetings, "heyo," or even worse, when they're leaving, "have a great d---one" so it sounds like you said, "da-wone" (that's combining "day" and "one"). You also remember specific customers that you'd like to physically hurt because they were so rude. A memory of a father with his two kids comes to mind. He only has about 15 items, one of which was an expensive cheese that his food stamps don't cover. He says to just take it off and before you can put it aside, the old man behind your current customer says, "oh no, I'll get it." The father is bashful and says, "no, no, you don't have to do that," and the old man motions for you to hand him the block of cheese. The young father pushes his buggy and stands by the bagging section of your station and you ring up the old man. You hold onto the block of cheese wondering if you should just give it to the guy, or let the old man give it to him, but he doesn't say anything so you just put it in a bag by itself. He pays. He says "you too," when you tell him to have a good night, and he walks away, bag of cheese in hand. The father and his two kids stand awkwardly looking at you and then down at the floor. Then they walk away too.


You laugh sometimes thinking about it because it's just that uncomfortable of a situation that it seems like something you'd see on the Office. You feel bad about laughing though because that guy with his kids must have been really embarrassed after he realized he assumed the guy was going to buy the cheese for him.



You dread going to work, because if you're ever excited about it, you're GOING to have a bad day because the customers really suck. You know you're capable of more than dealing with ungrateful, spoiled people with their rotten children for hours. Your heart breaks for the people you see who are stuck there working the registers, for the rest of their lives.