I Don't Feel Bad That You're Dumb, I Feel Judgmental

Retail-hell beckons a Cornucopia (festive, right?) of dire size situations, coupons that work on less than 16% of our inventory (and subsequent rants, cuss words and storm-offs) and last but not least, stupidity. I and I do mean stupidity, as in dumbness, inanity, idiocy, as in that light bulb never turned on in the first place and the hamster’s wheel is egg-shaped. Am I mean? Yes. Am I accurate, even more so yes.

I’ll begin with some clueless customers, “here’s my coupon does it work with these?” She said as she slung 6 slightly different onesies onto the counter and waved a coupon in my face.

“No…” I began.

“NOTHING works with these coupons! Why even give them out!” She pontificated and with much accuracy, the coupons do not work on a whole lot in our store, but that’s not my fault, nor is it my fault that most customers neglect to read the back of the coupon detailing all of the exemptions and instead prefer the rush of anger/surprise when I tell them the coupon will not work… aaaand I do this for nine hours a day.

“Well, this coupon isn’t for our store…” I said as politely as I could, slightly relieved that I wasn't dealing with yet another neglectful store customer....

“It’s not? Hey ma, what store're we at?”

“Do you still want your items?”

“No! Not without the coupon!” They stormed off to JC Penney’s, where the coupon had come from…

I am SO judging you right now. You drove all the way up here from Wyoming and in those 2-3 hours, neglected to read the entire coupon—specifically which store it belonged to. You’re an idiot. You don’t deserve the coupon. In fact, I want the coupon back so I can give it to a third grader, because at least they still maintain the ability to follow directions!

Another situation I frequently encounter is the Wrong Size-Coup, “what do you mean this doesn’t come in a 48 inch waist?!?” I merely shake my head at you. It’s difficult to refrain from jeering that the FDA banned 6X clothing due to the rampant obesity in the US, if only it were true.

I’ve gotten over working in the plus-sized section, even if the nastier customer specimens manifest there. As one co-worker once whispered to me, “they take their anger out on us because they’re too fat to do anything about it. They have to channel that anger somewhere…” Spot on!

There are also the self-important folks that insist on grabbing my attention while I’m clearly ringing up a transaction with several more waiting patiently in line, “Can I ask you a quick question? What price is this? Where is the bathroom? Have you seen my lost credit card??”

No. I don’t know. Follow the freaking signs. Call customer service.

Trust me, Seemingly Urgent Question Holder, you’re no more important to me than the lady in line with three screaming kids and a handful of coupons I already know won’t work on sale priced items. Get your cuss in cussing line or find an associate that isn’t waist deep in business!

Some customers—on the selling floor—randomly hand me items and ask, “is this on sale? I mean it says it’s this price, but is it really?”

Funny, as much time as I spend here, I have not yet installed a price check device into my wrist nor am I Lt. Commander Data, furthermore, not three feet behind you is the Customer Price Check module. Helpless idiots. All of you!

The Nature Snob 2.0

"Do you know how to use a shovel, Naomi? Said my guy friend as we prepared to plant our vegetable garden.

“Have you ever even gone hiking before?” Said my long-term boyfriend.

Some of my readers may remember a post from a while ago, titled, The Nature Snob. It can be found here.

For those who neither wish to read the entire post nor enjoy my amazing humor, I will summarize, The Nature Snob. The post concerns the snobbiest of snobs: the Nature Snob. The Nature Snob shuns anyone who either doesn't like hiking/camping etc. or doesn't look as if they could like OR, more importantly are capable of hiking/camping etc.

My latest experience with a Nature Snob occurred last night with my boyfriend of a year and a half. I had just walked out on a graphically violent movie he had chosen for movie night. Chosen, knowing full well I am sensitive to that sort of thing. He then called me a, "wimp."

I simply replied, “please don’t say that I am a wimp when you know it’s not true. I am not a wimp. It takes a brave person to stand up and say they are not OK and leave; whereas, a coward would have suffered in silence.” He did not like that.

After he finished his movie, and complained about my sensitivity to violence and how I am missing out on some good movies (whatever is meant by good I am sure I can find a better good), he brought up another activity that we seemingly don't have in common: hiking. He said that because I don't look outdoorsy, I couldn't possibly be outdoorsy.

I’ve encountered this before from people, specifically my 11^th grade Lacrosse teammate who said, “you don’t look athletic, so you can’t be.” But it has never come from my long –time boyfriend.

If you ask me, it seems as if he doesn't want me to be outdoorsy. Why do I feel like this? I feel like this because he has never invited me to go camping or hiking up until a few days ago and the lackluster motivation behind this invitation was, "Because I saw something really beautiful up in the mountains and wanted you to see it."

This is insulting for many reasons. First of all, it took seeing something, "so beautiful," for him to even INVITE me. Second of all, this assumes that I have never been hiking in the mountains or seen anything beautiful while hiking in the mountains. This is not true.

"Well, you don't like to get dirty." He said, condescendingly.

"Because I have excellent hygiene and bathe everyday, means I don't like to get dirty? That makes sense,” I said sarcastically, “I mean, I only rode horses for 14 years... in Minnesota... including the summertime... in an outdoor arena... not to mention cleaned up horse poo... you don't think I got a little mussed??"

Silence.

"And further more, why would I want to go hiking or camping with someone who has waited almost the whole summer to even invite me?" I replied.

"You just don't look like you could go hiking. I mean, have you ever even been hiking?"

He seriously asked this.

"Let's see.... Yellowstone, Montana, Idaho, Oregon, Wisconsin, North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota and Scotland. That good for you?" I said dryly.

Even the people closest to you can get you wrong and at that moment you realize that it's not even worth it to try and prove yourself.

"I can't believe this is what you really think of me. And you know what? Yeah, I might be prissy and over-dressed, I might be a city-kid, but one thing I am not is a snob. That is what you are." I said.

I think men are afraid of the, "whole package," because it wouldn't give them any reason to nit-pick or be self-destructive in relationships.

P.S. Yes I DO know how to use a shovel...

Why Try

It is disturbing to me that a female Republican, gasp, God-fearing candidate strikes more fear in people than an obvious Socialist who is currently ruining the county. Read the comments on the Michelle's Migraine articles. Plethoras of entirely fearful liberals with nothing original to say, but only, "she is a headache," and variations thereof. They are angry people that don't offer their why or what they disagree with, just the fact that a beautiful and intelligent lady, who holds Christian values, happens to be running for president. Like venom they spit, "she will ruin the country!" The country is already in ruins. People need stop hating on the good and wholesome—they're the backbone of this nation.

Furthermore, I'd like to note the unequivocal hypocrisy of the seemingly, "diverse," liberals who cannot diversify their slams on Michelle Bachmann. They should at least attempt to be original with the insults, it would be slightly less difficult to respect witty insulters. I digress.

Is it merely that we as humans have lost the plot or the desire to do good for the purpose of doing good and infusing the fight for justice, goodness and truth into society OR is it that that takes too much work and too much rational thinking, and more importantly, it takes too much courage to believe in something? To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, If you don't believe in something, you're ready to believe in anything. Now THAT is frightening.

Personally, I think (and feel) that the reason a lot of leftward-thinking, "open-minded" people revolt to anyone, be it politician or not, mentioning the G-word is derived from fear. Fear of believing, fear of caring and fear of being cared for. I gander that these are the same people who cannot accept compliments or are, "dry sponges" as my friend calls them. Maybe the issue is with intimacy; the fact that someone sees something in you that you don't thus leaving one with the uncomfortable stab of vulnerability.

And I do not want to limit the Lost Plotter Syndrome, or Dry Sponge Virus—tis' viral because negativity spreads faster than positivity—to Liberals. O contrare. Yesterday, I met a very conservative Wyoming lawyer and his wife and they overflowed with negativity heeding me not to go to law school, a dream I have had for years.

Dream killing, poison spouting people who have lost their purpose. I'm sure at one point going into law was because of the internal need to help people, but when I brought this up I was told, and might I add rather misogynistcally so, that, "if you want to help people, be a nurse." They should trademark that advice and include it on all the welcome signs in Wyoming. It sums up the mind-frame very neatly.

"I'm squeamish and I don't like hospitals. I want to help people in a larger way, and pursue Justice." I replied.

His wife, we'll call her Crystal-crabby-pants, had spent our what should've been 20 minute appointment, complaining about her life and how, "the other book in the area is better and here's why and why do I have to pay so much money for advertising..." and not to be tootless or hornless, "my son is sheriff and I know every other attorney in Wyoming. This guy failed the bar twice but he makes millions..."

Two and a half hours later, the mini-Pomeranian, Teddy, was still licking my toes (not that unpleasant, mind you) when Crystal-crabby-pants began laughing at me as I inched towards the door, "Justice.?? Law is never about justice. No one ever get's justice. If you become a lawyer, everyone will hate you for something or other." She made a good point; Law has lost the path to Justice in the fog of ambiguity and over-regulation.

However, when I went INFJ on her and said that, "life is about fighting for things worth fighting for, even if people hate me, if I can do good in the world, and infuse humanity with goodness and purpose, my job will be satisfying," She gave me a perplexed look, as if I had grown a dragon tail while trying to ride a tricycle, blindfolded, in zero-gravity. To me, this look sent a very powerful and clear message of, "why try?"

Why try, indeed. This is the message I get when I see all of the negative comments about something as trite as Michelle's Migraines. I think these people are subconsciously mad at her FOR trying. Trying to do good. Being and doing good has become laughable in our society. Well, I'm not laughing nor will I grow apathetic—Instead, I will try.

World Ends at 6:30, Looting Party at 6:45!

"Here's your End of The World Burger, Joe." Said the waitress at my favorite little pub.

So I thought, but seriously, Apocalypse tomorrow? OR... ultimate student loan forgiveness! If I survive impending doom, I can tell you one thing, I will be PISSED OFF.

The World Ends. BOOM. SHAKE. Now what? No order, only chaos. And free stuff! What better way to purge my carhtasis then to pointlessly demolish things and pillage??

Maybe I should have bought that Lady Smith & Wesson that I saw at a clients' Pawn Shop... Oh, well. Either way, I am filling up my Bimmer with gas tonight.

Cheers!

STRAW NEUTRALITY

So, in kindergarten, I would bring a straw to school to drink my chocolate milk. One day, the teacher said I couldn't bring my straw anymore unless I brought one for everyone in the class.
I was upset by that...

How difficult is it to ask mom for a straw in the morning?!? Well, same sort of thing going on here, except with flags... If you want a flag, any flag, then so be it. Go get one. Being "neutral" it destroying our country.... by being neutral, you really seek control—of everything.

Cyrano De-Up-sidedown Cake

This weekends episode of Desperate Housewives...

Progression I Believe In

When the Office Command Center is at the hotel, in your room sprawled across a dinky faux wood desk with a lamp from 1986, you know you're a business, man.

After experiencing the generosity of small-town America, I am even more compelled to care about small businesses and I also have an un-satiated desire to help them move into modern digital advertising. Also, grilled-cheese and some soup would be good.

That being said, it's like this: if small business refuses to digitally advertise and—gasp—have a website, these small, hard-working towns with shrivel up into dusty raisins of non-commerce. I see so many God Bless America signs and Glen Beck bumper stickers, I find myself wanting to ask someone; do these small businesses see themselves as the backbone of America, and if so, do they want the backbone of America to shrivel up and crumble under the weight of big businesses and the use of evil websites and technology?

Frankly speaking, the answer would probably be a resounding NO, followed by a 21 shotgun salute and Elk jerky tasting.

It's difficult down here. Business are cutting expenses wherever they can, and unfortunately advertising is the first to go. I believe this is a mistake as Henry Ford once said, "cutting down on advertising so save money is like stoping a clock to save time."

The world will still advance as time does, and the decent hard-working folks will be literally left in the dust.

Wyoming Isn't So Bad

I've always thought of myself as a city-kid even though I more or less grew up in suburban Minneapolis. I'm fine with that, too. That being said, it has been quite the culture shock working out of Powell, WY, population 5,000. Sure, small towns are charming, but I find myself lonely and a little land locked (lakes? hello lakes?).

I was cruising down Wyoming State Highway 310 on the way to meet with a client, contemplating the next 4 months of small town work, living out of a hotel in Cody, WY, when all the sudden my oil light flashed and my car started shaking and smoking and spurting water, filling the air with a chemical odor I've never smelled before. Shit.

I pulled into the closest gas station, frantically bought some coolant and oil. The young service station boy, observing my confusion, offered to help me. City girl, in a dress and heels confused about her car. This is a little too cliche'd, I thought.

I thought we had the car cooled down, so I started it and pulled out on my way to find a mechanic, very thankful that I hadn't yet downloaded John Clease's voice to my Tomtom, "you killed your auto, you bloody idiot! Get out!" Whew.

My car started to overheat again so I pulled over and walked to Hansel and Gretel's restaurant where I had enjoying a nice club sandwich for lunch not 3 hours earlier.

"Back again?" Said the waitress.

"Should've taken those left overs with you, eh?" Said the bartender/server.

"I would've but I was going to be driving all day, until my car broke." I replied.

"Oh, what happened?" Asked the 40-something softball coach looking server.

"Well, I think my radiator blew, or something—it needed coolant. I honestly don't know." I said sipping my iced tea from a jar. Seriously.

"You from out of town?"

"Billings."

"Shweeeew. You work here huh. Well I happen to be buddies with the best and cheapest most honest mechanics in Powell and Cody... let me call em'.."

"Oh thats ok..."

Exit bartender on his cellphone.

° 5 minutes later °

Enter bartender, Chris with the chef, Chad.

"Can't get a hold of CRC's but Chad here happens to be a mechanic, he can look at yer car if you want.' Said Chris.

"That would be great! Let me pay for my iced tea."

"Ah, don't worry about it!"

We all walk out to the car and run our set of diagnostics.

"Yep," said heavily tattooed, ponytailed, but sweet Chef Chad,"it's the water-pump. You can drive it in town to a mechanic, but no further."

We went back inside as Chris tried to call every mechanic he knew. Chad got off shift and we sat in the bar watching an episode of the TV show Cops about poaching Elk. Doesn't get more Wyoming than that...

Chris came back and told me that the reason the mechanics didn't answer the phone was because NASCAR was probably on the TV in the mechanic's shop and we should drive out there and ask about the car. First, we stopped at O'Rielly Auto and asked Chris's friend, Rich, if they had the part we needed, he said he did, $60 and could overnight it, great. Now all we had to to was confirm that CRC's could do the work.

We drove about 8 miles out of town, talked to the shop guy and he said no problem. Then the greatest example of American Small Town—hell generosity in general—happened.

"Hey Naomi, I'm going to go grab my gas card and fill up the car for you. You can use it all week if you want, I have to drive my truck up to Montana tomorrow to watch my daughter barrel-race. You can follow me back out here in your car and they'll get the work done tomorrow. Do you have a business card?"

"Yep. That is too generous of you."

"Naw, no problem." He said, smiling.

Get this, the now borrowed car, sitting outside of my hotel, is a 2004 Toyota Camry. Comparable to my mom's 2003 Honda Accord, needless to say, it is a nice ride.

The fact that someone would just lend their car, albeit third car, to a complete stranger—townie at that—is beyond me.

I am very grateful and have grown a new love and appreciation for the small town mentality of community, heart and home.

God Bless my kind strangers as they have bless me.

Pretty People On Life-Endangering Dates

...I like watching crazy people mingle. It's a morbid fascination of mine...

"I just rappelled down a thirty story building! I'm in love!" Said Crazy Michelle, from this season of The Bachelor.

Ten min earlier she was saying, "I hate heights, I'm going to barf!"

ABC should re-name The Bachelor, Pretty People on Life-Endangering Dates. No. Really.

You're not in love, dear crazy one, it was adrenaline. (Haha). The chemical response of a rush you endured with someone attractive, who was no doubt even more attractive while suspended at vertigo-inducing heights above Los Angeles.

And what's with the backpacks? Did they contain parachutes?? I hope so.

Come on people–caves full of God know's what, dinner in the middle of a Costa Rico pond on a sinking island... piranhas anyone?

(SNAP SNAP SNAP).

I wince whenever they enter the jungle on a date. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like The Bachelor and The Bachelorette—I like watching crazy people mingle. It's a morbid fascination of mine. But, seriously, whatever happened to dinner and a movie or conversation over cabernet?

Maybe I am old-fashioned or terribly boring. I just don't think that an analogy can be drawn between zip-lining in the Jungle and future relationship trials. Sure, it's emotional and frightening, but, arguments happen frequently, hurling yourself toward the jungle floor at mock 0.4 does not. And if it does, you must be a Navy SEAL or something.

Experiencing life and maintaining a relationship isn't about extremes, oh contra-re, it is about keeping things interesting and functional through the mundane day-to-day activities. That is the real challenge.

Anyways, I just think my proposed title,"Pretty People on Life-Endangering Dates," would be more fitting, unless of course The Bachelor, leaves as a Bachelor. Again.

What's Your Major? (Problem)

I'm sure many non-teaching English majors experience this from time to time. But every-time, it reminds me of when I was little and would lose my, "baby," teeth. Without fail, after every tooth fell out, just a few days later I assured myself and my bloody gums that the experience was nothing to ruminate over. It was really not too bad. Besides, we got a quarter. But the next tooth's departure always hurt even worse than the last...

Tonight, while working at Dillard's Daycare Inc., I was helping two women find, "wool coats with a hood, that have a zipper," (which I hear is ultimately impossible unless you shop at Eddie Bauer... whose fashion brains have apparently been eaten by modern eclectic zombies... or something) and one of them asked me which high school I went to. Cringe.

Now, my boyfriend Patrick says that this is not as, "uncomplimentary as you might think it is," but I still take offense, especially when I am wearing a power suit, glasses—and sapphires.

I replied that I was not under 18, go to bed at 2am and had recently obtained a degree from Rocky Mountain College.

"What was your major?" She chimed.

"English... Creative-Writing." I said, picking rouge feathers from my new goose-down coat.

She then tossed out the excruciating, "oh, so why aren't you teaching?"

My jaw tightened and the down feathers ruffled.

"Well, I don't like kids—or teaching, for that matter."



Thanks... thank YOU for basically saying that I am a sub-par writer, and all I can do with my degree in Creative-Writing is teach creative-writing.

When They Can't Fire You

I'll admit these activities might be passive-aggressive, but sometimes that can be fun. Just like the passive-aggressive way the manager gets her jollies by giving your Sunday off to the atheist who could care less about days off, simply because she doesn't like you.

(BTW, the atheist doesn't care for the manager either).

1) The most recent idea I had occurred this morning when I discovered all of my formal tops were in the laundry pillowcase (yes, I don't have a laundry basket).

I figured, hey, they won't give me a day off, so I can't do laundry, why not wear a freaking t-shirt to work!

Eyeliner pencil in my mouth, cocked like a pipe, I went to the dresser drawer, rummaged around and found a MN Twins T-shirt and and my, "Hi" shirt which sports big pink letters along the bust spelling,"Hi." My brother got this for me for college graduation, he said it would, "help you make friends in the real world." He's so thoughtful.

So, instead of a nice knit top beneath my business skirt-suit, I'm sporting a very friendly cotton t-shirt. It's customer service oriented... right? Right.

2) Bring your dog, or weed. Both work for, "medicinal purposes," and are probably more acceptable in Montana than anywhere else.

3) Abuse breaks as much as possible. Start smoking if you don't already. Shred the time you have to spend with customers and especially managers.

Or even go to the dollar store and buy some candy cigarettes and stand outside, "smoking," with the real smoking crowd. This especially works in winter where you can already see your breath in the air. Plus, you get a candy treat!

3) Abuse candy. Most department stores will write you up for having candy on the floor or for having a life in general.

Buy the noisiest, chewy candy you can find. Chew obnoxiously. Constantly.

Bring those candy cigarettes inside. You might not be able to legally smoke inside (lame), but you'll look so bad ass with that candy in your mouth.

They can't write you up if they still need you and can't fire you. If you put in your two weeks notice, you can be taken off of the schedule, but they can't necessarily fire you. Besides, re-scheduling is a pain in the ass, or it seems that way since it takes, "so long," to make a schedule for four people.

4) When damaging out defective items, use medical terms to describe what's wrong. I.E. the stuffed Gund bear that recites, "The Night Before Christmas," (yes the whole damn thing), but can no longer talk due to a defect, say that he has Laryngitis. (Yes I did this. No one has noticed yet). Tape some cough drops to his body as well as a get well card.

Defective talking Gund bears also work for pen holders. Put that annoying fake flower pen in his mouth and tell your manager that, "all he ever wanted to do was tango." Include this in the get well card.

5) Drink on your lunch break. You're not doing surgery later, so why not have some gin and tonics, maybe an Manhattan on your break. In most industries, it is perfectly legal to have two drinks during lunch.

6) Start parking in your managers favorite spot. Smile a lot.

7) When other retailers come head-hunting for your manager, give large hints that your manager is a bad idea. Even if you want to get rid of them.

8) Whenever your manager gives you a project, goose-step as much as possible while doing it. Mumble in german.

9) Quote Spock, Picard and Kirk.

"Please go put the freight away."

"Engage!"

"Why is all this stuff on the cash-wrap?"

"I am endeavoring, ma'am, to construct a mnemonic circuit using stone knives and bearskins..."

10) Bring show-and-tell items to those morning, "credit app," meetings. You already get tardies, write-ups for candy and are talked to like a special needs 3rd grader, why not play along?

"So, this is my bubble-gum universe diorama. These are the gumbots, they serve the supreme despot, Bubbloch."

It helps if Bubbleoch's statue constructed in the Gumistan courtyard has a striking resemblance to your manger.

Have fun.

Nixon Said it Too

Dillard’s Daycare Inc.
24th St. West
Billings, MT 59102

To whom it may concern:

Effective two weeks from today, January 17th 2011, I hereby resign my position as sales associate. I would like to take this opportunity to thank lower-management for treating me like a special-needs toddler.

I would also like to thank the company for not training me, yet expecting me to know every in and out of retail sales and when I fail to get something right, encouraging my co-workers to give me a, “hard time.”

Thanks for setting impossible goals for one person to achieve as well as ignoring my requests for the Sabbath as my day off. Also, thank you for not giving me an inconsistent day off something like every 8 to 9 days.

It has been a great experience working here, and my therapist will be billing you within the month.

Have a nice day,

Naomi J. Myrick



P.S. Celexa and Valium are not cheap.

Fighting for 'Family'?

I recently read an article by Fox News writer, Todd Stames, titled, "'Mother,' 'Father' Changing to 'Parent One,' 'Parent Two' on Passport Applications/"

It is about how the government is changing the U.S. passport applications from using the terms, "mother," and, "father," to, "parent one," and, "parent two," in order to be more "precise" in describing a personal background as well as accept all types of "families."

The State Department website had this to contribute.

“These improvements are being made to provide a gender neutral description of a child’s parents and in recognition of different types of families.”

This sickens me.

Thankfully, in the article, Family Research Council president Tony Perkins is quoted in a statement to Fox News Radio:

“Only in the topsy-turvy world of left-wing political correctness could it be considered an ‘improvement’ for a birth-related document to provide less information about the circumstances of that birth,”

“This is clearly designed to advance the causes of same-sex ‘marriage’ and homosexual parenting without statutory authority, and violates the spirit if not the letter of the Defense of Marriage Act.”

These are excellent points. Yet, I can envision activists sniffling over their ruffled feathers after reading what Perkins had to say.

Why are the feelings of one group valued over the feelings of another?

Is it because they're the minority, no doubt with unfathomable hardships for a Conservative Christian to understand, or because we don't want to offend anyone by posing a dissimilar viewpoint?

But, wouldn't changing the passport terminology be insensitive to Tony Perkins and like-minded individuals? As well as our founding fathers. Oh, forgive me, I meant to say our founding Parent Two's. Just doesn't have the same ring to it.

In my opinion, this whole "parent one and two" shenanigan is just anoter passive-aggressive "soft" ploy to disagree with the Moral driven conservatives. And unfortunately, it works because, due to Political Correctness' protective wing, reaping a rebuttal is damn near impossible.

I think the change (had enough change yet, America?) is a mistake, and not one soon mended. Whoever wins the 2013 election, especially if it is B.O., would be far to fearful of the political uprising that reverting "Mother" and "Father" would bring.

How much is this going to cost us, financially as well as ideologically? Will I be wishing my mother a, "Happy Parent One Day," come May?

Hall Monitor

In 9th grade, I had a control-freak English teacher, Mrs. Gohla. She wouldn't even let anyone use the potty, unless you cried, like my friend Anna did. 85 min. classes are excruciatingly long when your bladder is stretching.

Other students referred to her as, "The Gohla-Monster." Like Gila monster, I guess. While I was a good student, I was definitely not an ass-kisser. However, I dealt with the Gohla regime by following the rules, or, not getting caught breaking them.

I graduated high school—in the top of my class—over six years ago. I also graduated pre-school without too many incidents and never maimed or killed a baby-sitter.

Today at work, a high end clothing department store, my floor manager said, and I quote,"I'm going home for the day. 45 more minutes of scanning, and then work on signing. And, no standing around or talking. I'm going to have someone come check to see you're working."

As well as after introducing friend or boyfriend to the manager she says, "I'm the manager." Just had to get that out there, didn't you?

Now. Most pof my co-workers and myself are actually OLDER than the manager, but even if we weren't, I really don't think that's anyway to talk to other adults.

Again, I survived babysitters, high school and, oh yeah, college. I think I can handle putting clothes away, giving myself breaks, and carrying on conversations. I wonder if she realizes how ridiculous she sounded? Probably not.

I've been postulating about what would bring someone to act in such a Nazi, "I'm watching you! Eyes and ears everywhere!" sort of mentality.

It's simple: she never got to be hall monitor. No. Really. The control-freakery in people like this starts early, the first chance of power was passed to someone else. In the control-freak's mind, someone inferior. She has an Iago complex. Seeing the rest of us as potential Cassios.

I understand that said person has had a rough personal life, and I surmise that she has lost all sense of control. But taking out anger from personal issues on employees is not only unethical, but also unhealthy. I'm not so much annoyed as I just feel bad for the girl.

Maybe I should bring her a special badge tomorrow?