Retail Hell

This morning at work I had to walk five minutes in the rain wearing just my T-shirt (and pants, of course, but imagine me pantless if it helps you get through the day) to look for an item at the side of the building, which we did not have, despite our computer system assuring me we had 190. When I came back soaking wet and miserable to tell the customers what I found, the one said, “Well that’s not very good business.”

…This is a typical day for me.

I’ve been avoiding blogging about the perils of work because:

1: It’s not good business.

2: I can be fired for it.

3: It alienates co-workers.

4: It can prevent me from finding other employment.

5: It makes me come off sounding like a whiny little bitch, which I am to some extent.

Really, though, if I’m blogging about my life as a journal, am I to be expected to leave out a giant chunk of my day? What if Anne Frank kept a journal and left out the part about hiding in an attic? I’ve had previous problems and complaints from writing about my relationships and family. One whole section of my blog is about how much I hate the town I live in, and I’ve been thinking about deleting that, for the same reasons listed above about my work. What am I left with? Even some works of complete fiction have been looked at by my friends and they’ve drawn conclusions I’m writing about them. One of the works in question was about a cartoon cat. It similar to the recent story about the author of, “The Help,” but completely ridiculous, and without the lawsuits.

It’s just the pitfalls of being a writer/blogger, and not a very good one at that. You take risks and you face consequences, no matter how overblown and undeserved. I have a very small readership, and likely always will, as this is no way a profession for me. Even so, anyone can stumble across these words and make an opinion. That’s not saying a person wouldn’t look at my blog’s other subjects and gain a negative opinion of me. People passing by on the street will judge you just the same by your clothes. The only difference is the person of the street can literally spit on you.

There’s so much material in my life to draw upon, but I often neglect it, or ignore it. For instance, at work earlier this month, I was required as a condition of my employment to watch a safety video and take a quiz on preventing terrorism. To summarize the experience, it was similar to the Smokey Bear, “Only you can prevent forest fires!” routine, but instead of fires I’m expected to stop 9/11 times a million. I’m a Canadian working for an American company. Quite frankly, the American mindset is completely alien and frightening to me. I can support ingesting Double Downs, but not the whole, “These colours don’t run!” aspect of their lifestyle. As I said, I work in retail. I’m unlikely, in the extreme, to ever come between freedom and terrorism. The video told me what mysterious items to look out for in the event of a terrorist would sneak his way through our tills. My official corporate approach to dealing with a would-be terrorist is supposed to be: call the police with a description. The criteria for suspicion is extremely vague. I’m expected to instinctively know the precise components for making a homemade bomb. If I knew how to make a bomb, would that make me a terrorist? I’m sure the C.I.A. would think so, should I try to google it. Say I did know what goes in a bomb, and someone comes by trying to buy the same things, and after factoring in the same racist xenophobic criteria airport security uses, all I can do is watch him go? What are the police going to do if I call them saying I think someone’s trying to build a bomb? They’re going to ask me why I think that. Then I have to tell them I saw a guy buy some wire and a timer, or whatever the hell he would need. They would then ask me, “And?” And I would have to reply, “’And,’ what? HE’S A TERRORIST!” The conversation would keep going like this until I mention he was brown, and then they would come and arrest him. Only, he’d be gone already, so better luck next time, freedom.

Seriously. First off, this is way too much pressure to put on someone. Second, I know terrorists are the new witches, but you’re giving people a free pass to be racist, without even having to say the word. I’ve seen Fox News by proxy through the Daily Show. We all know what a “terrorist” looks like, *wink* *wink*. The video I watched didn’t even imply that a suspected terrorist could just as likely be a suspected mobster, or gangster. Maybe he’s going to blow up some Crips? Are terrorists the only criminals who use bombs? Maybe he’s going to blow up his ex-wife. Or HER ex-wife. Think progressive, people. Blowing up rental vans isn’t just for some cartoony Middle-Eastern stereotypes anymore. Look at Blondie-Van-Blondhead in Norway. Am I supposed to be profiling people, even? How does one stop terrorism by making groundless assumptions without profiling? You hear stories about airport security patting down babies and checking the underwire bras of grandmas. Am I supposed to be doing this?

I’m just worried that some human beings are taking things this seriously. I’ve worked at other places where people are supposed to call police if they’re trying to buy the components for making meth, which is just as destructive. Obviously, if someone’s buying 50 bottles of bleach in a go, they’re up to some shit, but what about fertilizer? Am I supposed to suspect someone’s a terrorist if they want to buy a truckload of fertilizer? Am I supposed to call the cops and say, “He said he was trying to grow carrots and lettuce, buy I don’t believe that shit. He had crazy terrorist eyes!”

Fuck.