As some of you may or may not know, last week I quit the job that I've been working at since I was eighteen years old. Although you'd be hard presseed to be able to consider it a career, it was like my home. I spent a greater majority of my time there, all my friends are still there. But last week I decided it was time to embark on something bigger and better. Alot of the things I'm about to say are probably not wise to post on the internet for fear of being dooced, but I'm cool with it.
Like I was saying as you may or may not know I now work for and I quote "The world's largest consumer electronics retailer". I will not actually cite the company by it's name but for clarities sake we'll call it "Great Purchase". I started last week, and at first I was pretty sure I loved it. Sure everyone seemed to clap a whole lot, and the pep talks and things like "There is no mountain too high, dream the impossible" being said at every possible moment was a little cumbersome. Yet all things considered I was pretty sure I was going to like it in spite of all that. The pay was great, and the benefits were even better. Sure the my co workers look a little lactose intolerant but I can deal with that too. And for the first few days everything seemed alright. I went merrirly along my way stocking cds, and dvds, and other consumer electronics that make us and I quote "The world's largest consumer electronics reatailer", and all seemed right in the world. But that was all until this week, where things hit a fever pitch.
I mentioned something casually about the constant clapping and pep talks, but I doubt I really did alot to drive home that point to you. It is a constant threat, that makes us want to pull out our hair, and punch someone squarely in the conjones. It is ever present, ever looming; the fear of having to cheer out in jubilation over a company we've only been working for a little over a week. When we get there at the beginning of our shift, we do jumping jacks, and in each interval we spell out the companies name. When we adjourn for a lunch break we are forced to "give them" the letters that spell out the name of our business. When we come back from lunch we are made to recite a cheer that not only do we have to memorize, but we will also be tested on. And God forbid we just clock out and leave at the end of our shift, heavens no. I mean how dare we want to leave when we've only been clapping for the last nine hours of our lives? How fucking dare we. So yet again, we are made to cheer just one more time before we all leave to walk ourselves into oncoming traffic hoping for the absolute worst.
To some people this situation doesn't sound that horrible. Great pay? Sign me up! Benefits and discounts out the ass? Sounds great! But if only you had to endure the constant peppiness, the incesant clapping, the ever present cheering and yelling; you too would be looking for an easy way out: death. But even all of that wasn't enough for me to truly, truly hate my job until today. The day when they thought it would be best to stop the hours upon hours of meticulous arranging and pricing merchandise. No today, we got a special treat. Today we got to sit in front of a three hundred pound man from our very important "corporate offices", and hear him talk about the joys of high deffinition television for five hours straight. Five fucking hours of pixels, and bit rates, and handing out Pez dispensers for the people who got answers to questions correct.
In case you were wondering, no I was not a recipient of a most sought after Pez dispenser. Apparently I'm not worthy of such a thing as a appendageless cartoon head attached to a plastic tube. But even after suffering such a loss, I was still in the game. Iw asn't quite ready to throw in the proverbial towel. That was until as I was trying ot make my escape at five o clock after one last round of clapping, that one of the managers came up to me and said "Jordan, we need to talk about something." Of course the first thought that came to my mind was "Oh, shit. He realized I was asleep for most of that speech about high deffinition tv, didn't he? Holy bejesus fuckballs." And just as I was trying to think of a beliveable lie for why I was asleep, he says "It's about your khakis." I look down at my Abercrombie and Fitch regulation standard issue khaki pants. Sure there are a few frayed edges at the bottom cuffs, but I kind of thought that brought a nice touch. I mean it's not like I paid for these pants to be ripped, this is all natural! You should praise me on how real I am, or something equally stupid. Then he says "Your khakis are not what "great purchase" considers khaki." I look down at the dark tan of my pants, and look back up questionly, my thoughts drifting to things such as "then what color is it dipshit?". He then says to me "Just make sure you fix the problem Jordan, remember that the impossible is possible here at "Great Purchase", I would hate to see you ruin it with the wrong uniform." He looks at me as if he doesn't even believe what he's saying and then turns around and goes back inside. The entire time I'm thinking "Look, Mister corporate, I don't fucking want your mountain. I don't fucking want you're godamned impossible possibillity or whatever the fuck you're talking about. But I do want you to realize that this is what khaki looks like in America. So take a long hard look at my supossed unkhaki colored knee; because you're about to get it up your ass."
I then went home, and instead of walking into on coming traffic like I had promised myself that I would. I sang myself a little ditty instead. You know there really is no mountain high enough. No river wide enough...
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