I‘ve slacked on blog updates in general this week, mostly due to my new job with Big Box. Being on my feet all day there is kicking my ass more than UPS ever did. When I left Thursday afternoon, it felt like I’d been through two weeks of Chinese foot binding. I immediately went to Sports Authority and purchased some all-black tennis shoes and gel insoles… which didn’t help at all Friday, when the gates of hell opened.

The never-ending supply of crowds with complicated, time-consuming problems wasn’t really the worst part. The worst part was the bastards haven’t given me a password to use the cash register yet, so I have to walk around and get someone to log in for me every goddamn time something needs to be rung up — which is almost every time. Compound that with my general sluggishness within their systems and likelihood to make mistakes because I still don’t really know what the hell I’m talking about when it comes to their totally inane store procedures and acronyms and rip-off service plans, on top of the crowds and my brutal hangover, and it’s a recipe for disaster.

Lines… lines… lines… that never end, and get angrier as the day progresses. It must be sort of the way you ladies feel when in the presence of a bona fide pervert, whose glare you can feel without even looking in his direction. Yet, when you turn your head toward him, he somehow is looking at his shoes or at a television or at the book in his hand… somewhere other than where you damn well know he was looking just two seconds ago.