come friday, i will have worked 12 straight days at 8+ hours per day. i'm not necessarily complaining, as i am full aware that many, many people work longer, harder days than mine. it's simply an observation. my job isn't hard. nor is it demanding with regard to labor. it's quite nice in many ways. i have my own desk. i get plenty of down time to do things like post and surf approved websites. i enjoy the company of my coworkers and get paid pretty well. i am good at the job i am supposed to do and accomplish my tasks with relative ease.
yet, i hate my job.
i hate it in a strange way. i do not cringe at the thought of it. i do not loathe going to work each day. i do not hate it in the way that people generally hate their jobs. i hate it subtly. i hate it quietly.
i think this is because it is not the big things about my job that i hate. it's all the little shit. the stuff you think you can ignore in order to love your job but that refuses to go away, nagging at you like one of those wounds you get under a fingernail after you pick away that strip of callousy skin that after it heals leaves the white section of your fingernail with a really odd edge where it meets the pink.
i hate the people who pay for a 25 cent hot chocolate with a twenty.
i hate the people who can't seem to understand we only receive refund checks on tuesdays and fridays.
i hate that i'm now immune to the smell of coffee.
i hate the people who toss their money across the counter like i'm the cheap whore they slept with the night before.
i hate the way voiding a transaction works on our computer.
i hate the woman who tells me she's gonna steal coffee everyday, as if announcing it to me before she does it somehow relieves her of the moral fact that it's wrong.
i hate our mark-ups.
i hate that we sell pens yet never have any for me to use.
i hate that we don't sell cherry coke.
i hate that the receipt paper starts curling long before it's about to run out.
i hate our stock room.
it's all these little things as someone once said. they just better be wary of the day that hundreds of angry greeks start flooding out of my ass.
i.f.o.t.d. - working in a cooking school, i happen to be around a lot of knives. working in a cooking school's bookstore, i happen to be around a lot of money. i am incessantly afraid of the day the two meet.
posted by brett @ 8:54 PM
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