What is working at the mall like? I hear you wondering, you blessed three people who escaped this fate. It seems like young people who are not doing manual labor go one of two ways: restaurant or retail. I went retail, because although the work is dirty (in the sense of actual dirt) and the people are often jackasses, you don’t get food all over yourself. I did have a dalliance with coffee for a while, but it broked my carpals and made me smell like dairy barf. DAINTY.
1. My coworkers’ average age is 20. There are a couple of people who are near my age, but when I say things like NOOOO THEY TOOK MY BUCKET they just cock their heads and look at me funny. Don’t panic, I’m from the internet.
2. I am captive to whomever comes on off the street. I was alarmed the other night because someone came into the mall entrance and yelled, “LISTEN UP!” I was ready to hit the floor and crawl out the back, but then one of my coworkers said, “Oh, don’t worry, it’s a fraternity ritual.” He yelled his name or something and then walked out. We also had the meth heads who somehow got their mitts on a generic mall card that could be spent in any store. I guess nothing in our store looked resellable, because they left pretty quickly. This was a relief because though the girl was tiny (90 pounds, seriously) she smelled like she had shit her pants with a massive shit that you would imagine being produced by, say, John Goodman. Then there was the old letch who immediately upon coming in swooped up and put his arm around me. I backed away, but he kept touching me, until I almost bolted. I may look like a retail bimbo with my eyeliner and giant earrings, but don’t touch my bikini, doods.
3. There is a guy who works at the mall with a cool shiner. I am going to ask him if he will be my friend. I love shiners.