The other day I was helping a customer and she mentioned that she thinks people that say they have no regrets are either lying or are a little stupid. I think that statement is entirely unfair and very prejudice. And a little stupid as well. I completely understand wishing that events in our life didn't happen because they were painful or hard to live through. Regret for me is like hate. It is a very strong word. And only to be used when absolutely necessary. I think of it as a no holds bared word as if it were a curse word. When you regret you basically want to change the natural order of things, and we have all seen how those face lift turn out, not pretty!
For me regret would be something that had no lesson in it. It would be something like a plain crash. And I suppose that there is even a lesson to learn in that. Don't land in a corn field or fly into a flocks of seagulls. Unless it remove the hair cut from history. See there's a thing to regret. A bad hair cut. You learn nothing from that other than perms aren't for everyone. Oh look another lesson. This one is fixable however. Regret is a word we use when we don't know how to categorize something or how to process it. We may understand what has happened but we don't know what to do with it. It is a useless emotional word that solves nothing. The event or circumstances is life altering in some way and usually not to pleasant. Regret should be something truly dreadful. Perhaps regret is a word used when we can't solve a problem, or feel overwhelmed by a past situation.
I only bring this up because I think of my self as not having regrets. And I wouldn't say I'm stupid. That would be like standing up and saying I'm learning disabled, get me a standardized test and I'll prove it! I have been through a bit in my life, as we all have, and I am glad of every last piece of it. Was some of it unfortunate, well yes. Everything makes us stronger and helps us learn to make better choices. I hate the saying, whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger. But it is true. I'm just really afraid of finding that gray line and being pushed over it. With each test we prove what we can live through. Bad jobs, bed bugs, multiple relocations and near bankruptcies be DAMNED!!
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
I'M EITHER INCREDIBLY SMART OR OUT OF MY MIND
Sometimes I think I am psychic. I can tell when a women walk up to the counter that she hate me. It’s the look she has in her eyes as she ask the same damn question in five different ways expecting me to be stupid enough to fall for it. You know that's the definition of crazy. Doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome. I may be a pretty boy, but momma didn't raise me for the Special Olympics. Give me some credit. I also start to wonder if I have been spending too much time with foreigners, people who have English as a second language, and my customers can't understand what I am trying desperately to tell them. I DON'T AVE TURQUOISE EYE LINER!! In all actuality I sometimes find it more simple communicating with our Asian clientele who barely speak a word of English. I guess the words for, pearl, compact, and gel eyeliner must be universal.
Every now and then I find myself speaking out loud to NOBODY! I'll be walking around working out a conversation in my head, with it spilling out of my mouth a little. And when the stresses of the job makes one find themselves mumbling obscenities loud enough that one can hear themselves over the already loud MAC music, perhaps a day off is needed. Or perhaps some better planning to avoid working 6 days in row during sell times. It's at these times that I become the most quiet, I'm afraid that if I speak to much or if I interact with the customer too much, what I actually think about their "tragic experience" with their face cream or plum based eye shadow, will pop out. Most of the time I do not need a story! I have Net Flix; don't tell me a tale cuse I don't care. Let me just fix it and you can leave! Which will be the best part of my day.
I do love to help people.Really I do. Making them see themselves in a different better way, feeling pretty, and attractive, is really a gift I can give. And I do value it. I wish sometimes people would shut the hell up and let me do that for them. I'm not asking much. Help me help you! Don't interrupt either. I want to know what you think, I need feed back. But for the love, wait until I am done to tell me what you think. Odds are if you have a call out, it will be fixed. And for gods sakes if you come up to the counter and tell me you have a quick question or "just need to pick something up" don't follow it by " I don't know my color" Not real quick then now is it. Well you just lied to me, and now I'm going to lie to you, "I'll be right with you"
Every now and then I find myself speaking out loud to NOBODY! I'll be walking around working out a conversation in my head, with it spilling out of my mouth a little. And when the stresses of the job makes one find themselves mumbling obscenities loud enough that one can hear themselves over the already loud MAC music, perhaps a day off is needed. Or perhaps some better planning to avoid working 6 days in row during sell times. It's at these times that I become the most quiet, I'm afraid that if I speak to much or if I interact with the customer too much, what I actually think about their "tragic experience" with their face cream or plum based eye shadow, will pop out. Most of the time I do not need a story! I have Net Flix; don't tell me a tale cuse I don't care. Let me just fix it and you can leave! Which will be the best part of my day.
I do love to help people.Really I do. Making them see themselves in a different better way, feeling pretty, and attractive, is really a gift I can give. And I do value it. I wish sometimes people would shut the hell up and let me do that for them. I'm not asking much. Help me help you! Don't interrupt either. I want to know what you think, I need feed back. But for the love, wait until I am done to tell me what you think. Odds are if you have a call out, it will be fixed. And for gods sakes if you come up to the counter and tell me you have a quick question or "just need to pick something up" don't follow it by " I don't know my color" Not real quick then now is it. Well you just lied to me, and now I'm going to lie to you, "I'll be right with you"
Monday, August 9, 2010
SORRY, NOT GAY ENOUGH TO KNOW WOMEN'S SIZES
No sleep last night and looking at the same tonight. Today was, shall we say out of the normal. For one on a day when I had no reason to I was up at 8 and ready to go by 9. Of course like every other grieving spouse that has lost their mate my mother made muffins and set the table for breakfast with coffee and eggs ready to go for the first arrivals.
After the sad and uncomfortable welcomes and hellos between the family we start setting out the day’s activities. Note I did not say anything about eating yet. Heavens no we will wait for the rest of the family to arrive for the meal to begin. Because we are so rarely all in the same time zones let alone adjacent zip codes out of duty we SHOULD wait.
I get up and shower wondering yet again how much eye liner is appropriate. After all it’s never none. I am a blond masquerading as a red head. I need definition on the mess, better known as my face. I am quickly told by my intentionally over planned and under delegated mother that one of the grand skills I have that has gotten me in to a ton of personal hardships and financial problems, is my job today; SHOPPING! I have to find an outfit for the funeral for her. And she claims she didn't know about me being a homosexual. And she is sending me on yet another shopping extravaganza as if that is actually an important duty. I don't mind. As long as my brother is around I don't need to do any important work.
Before I go on my great adventure I'm laid out on acceptable options: no stripes no low cut necks, no green, yellow or orange, skirts not too long something modern not tight through the mid-section. Then pulling out two perfectly nice and respectable skirts, I'm told she doesn't like them. AND hosiery is needed. Deep sigh. We're off!! I get in to one of the towns finest department store and start to locate the right woman's department. There appears to be no one in the store except those who work there. Rummaging through this and that I find a few nice things, wrong size. What size is a 12-14, medium? She always gets too cold so all of the seasonal offerings are out. And you know it’s tough to find black in the middle of June.
After about 45 minutes I have worked my way through most of the departments. Some very quickly ruled out. She would never wear designer, she wouldn't feel right or want to pay the price. I understand a fixed income. Half of what I'm looking at I can see my grandma wearing, although I love her that's right out, and the other portion is far too casual for the occasion at hand. Again being summer quite a few pieces are v-neck and too low cut. The dresses are the wrong color all together. I can't have her showing up in fuchsia far too cheery.
I'm lucky enough to find someone on their first day and am redirected to areas that I have already visited. With a helping of patience I look at the same sweaters and clearance racks that I had already seen. I thank her for her help and ask if she would recommend another department. She tells me I should stop by the casual wear area, retard, I've already been there. I thank her for her help and wonder in the opposite direction. Maybe petites mom is average to small in stature. At this point I have narrowed down exactly what I am looking for, a black suiting separates. I'm hoping I didn't use words that were too big or confusing, and thank the gods I found someone who understands what I'm talking about. But I'm told no. Looking back on it I'm curious if she did understand. Many years later I find a few things that will work. Less than the three outfits I was sent for but it’s covered.
By this time my brother and sister in law have finished with their tasks and found me in me foraging for pantyhose and under things. Talk about a fish out of water. I've never been inclined to do drag and I'm still not. So this is a vortex of absolute confusion and necessity. I had no idea of all the options in this world. I mean really! Silk or satin, shape wear and support. That's all too much for Mr. Rogers. I only occasionally wear underwear, so lifting and separating apparatuses are completely out of my scope of understanding. Not something I have ever looked for in a t-shirt. The perplexed looks that I am receiving only crescendo when I enter the lingerie department; where I truly had no clue what to do. The looks were, I think, a mixture of fear and astonishment or just plain freaking laziness. Wouldn't you think this guy needs some help? I was putting on my best lost child look and everything. If these were the people in the park all those summers ago when I was left there, I might still be feeding the birds.
I always thought it was our job as good sales people to be helpful, acknowledge the fools running a muck around us and help them spend their money. I don't think much of that happened this time, which is why we haven't recruited them at my company yet. Snotty stuck up moment over.
After the sad and uncomfortable welcomes and hellos between the family we start setting out the day’s activities. Note I did not say anything about eating yet. Heavens no we will wait for the rest of the family to arrive for the meal to begin. Because we are so rarely all in the same time zones let alone adjacent zip codes out of duty we SHOULD wait.
I get up and shower wondering yet again how much eye liner is appropriate. After all it’s never none. I am a blond masquerading as a red head. I need definition on the mess, better known as my face. I am quickly told by my intentionally over planned and under delegated mother that one of the grand skills I have that has gotten me in to a ton of personal hardships and financial problems, is my job today; SHOPPING! I have to find an outfit for the funeral for her. And she claims she didn't know about me being a homosexual. And she is sending me on yet another shopping extravaganza as if that is actually an important duty. I don't mind. As long as my brother is around I don't need to do any important work.
Before I go on my great adventure I'm laid out on acceptable options: no stripes no low cut necks, no green, yellow or orange, skirts not too long something modern not tight through the mid-section. Then pulling out two perfectly nice and respectable skirts, I'm told she doesn't like them. AND hosiery is needed. Deep sigh. We're off!! I get in to one of the towns finest department store and start to locate the right woman's department. There appears to be no one in the store except those who work there. Rummaging through this and that I find a few nice things, wrong size. What size is a 12-14, medium? She always gets too cold so all of the seasonal offerings are out. And you know it’s tough to find black in the middle of June.
After about 45 minutes I have worked my way through most of the departments. Some very quickly ruled out. She would never wear designer, she wouldn't feel right or want to pay the price. I understand a fixed income. Half of what I'm looking at I can see my grandma wearing, although I love her that's right out, and the other portion is far too casual for the occasion at hand. Again being summer quite a few pieces are v-neck and too low cut. The dresses are the wrong color all together. I can't have her showing up in fuchsia far too cheery.
I'm lucky enough to find someone on their first day and am redirected to areas that I have already visited. With a helping of patience I look at the same sweaters and clearance racks that I had already seen. I thank her for her help and ask if she would recommend another department. She tells me I should stop by the casual wear area, retard, I've already been there. I thank her for her help and wonder in the opposite direction. Maybe petites mom is average to small in stature. At this point I have narrowed down exactly what I am looking for, a black suiting separates. I'm hoping I didn't use words that were too big or confusing, and thank the gods I found someone who understands what I'm talking about. But I'm told no. Looking back on it I'm curious if she did understand. Many years later I find a few things that will work. Less than the three outfits I was sent for but it’s covered.
By this time my brother and sister in law have finished with their tasks and found me in me foraging for pantyhose and under things. Talk about a fish out of water. I've never been inclined to do drag and I'm still not. So this is a vortex of absolute confusion and necessity. I had no idea of all the options in this world. I mean really! Silk or satin, shape wear and support. That's all too much for Mr. Rogers. I only occasionally wear underwear, so lifting and separating apparatuses are completely out of my scope of understanding. Not something I have ever looked for in a t-shirt. The perplexed looks that I am receiving only crescendo when I enter the lingerie department; where I truly had no clue what to do. The looks were, I think, a mixture of fear and astonishment or just plain freaking laziness. Wouldn't you think this guy needs some help? I was putting on my best lost child look and everything. If these were the people in the park all those summers ago when I was left there, I might still be feeding the birds.
I always thought it was our job as good sales people to be helpful, acknowledge the fools running a muck around us and help them spend their money. I don't think much of that happened this time, which is why we haven't recruited them at my company yet. Snotty stuck up moment over.
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