Menopause Central
That's my name for "The Store," the retail branch of my workplace. The work I do is easy enough, usually, and the customers are almost always friendly, except for the mad-at-life few. I don't go to The Store everyday, but I go often enough. Far more than I was originally told, of course.
The only good thing about having to work there is that my hands get a rest from all the squeezing and pulling and lifting, so my CTS stays pretty calm and doesn't wake me up at night.
I almost always get sent to The Store after a few hours of my normal job, so by the time I have to leave, I'm sweaty and my clothes are wet, and my hair is wild-looking and ucky. I have to go into the wheelchair-stall in the bathroom, and clean myself up with a kitchen towel impregnated with baby bath soap, and change into the uniform-clothes I always have to have available. I hate doing this! It's horribly awkward, and I have to do it as quickly as possible, so I can get to The Store as quickly as possible. Which means I take my time, because I am sooo not going out of my way to please the ss-holes that be. I just don't care.
There are 5 women and a man who are permanently attached to The Store. I don't fit in, not even a little bit. These 5 women are in the middle of menopause, and the man may as well be. Which is why I call this place "Menopause Central." Everyone there is a biddy. They're not old; I think the oldest is only in her mid-fifties, but even the man (who is nicknamed "Papa" because he's a grandfather now)is a biddy. He talks like a biddy and he walks like a shuffling old biddy.
Every one of them (including Papa) has something going on, and the estrogen in that place can send you through the ceiling-- no one is doing their menopause naturally. I have to listen to and watch them have hot flashes, talk about their thinning hair and their "zero thyroid." They're scaring the scheist out of me, because I haven't hit menopause yet, and don't want to be like them when I do! They all have more than one personality, too, it seems. One minute they're mellow and laid-back, and the next minute at least one of them is shrieking about something. Usually about something I've done "wrong." Translated-- not the way THEY do things. Forget it's still correct, it's not THEIR way. I'm getting really good at ignoring the corrections. They never correct me alone, in back, where no one can see. NOOO, they do it in front of the customers, while I'm in the middle of a transaction. They bring my mistake out from the back, lay it on the counter between me and the customer, and tell me all about what I did. I just smile, say thank-you-I'll-remember-that-don't-tell-me-again (yes! I say that!)and go on with my customer. I'm not exaggerating when I say that there is NEVER one day, not ONE, when I don't do something "wrong." Does it embarrass or annoy me? No. I don't care enough.
They don't talk to me much, and that's just fine with me. I have nothing to talk to them about. Well, that's not strictly true-- one of the ladies does animal rescue, so I can talk about that. But she hasn't been there for 2 weeks. Otherwise, I just do my time.
I was supposed to go there yesterday. I started at the Annex (where my very physical job is)at 6, and was supposed to go to The Store at 10:30. But I didn't remind the acting supervisor, and no one from Menopause Central called to ask where I was, so I stayed at the Annex, where I DO fit in, even if it kills my hands and arms. I just hope the acting supervisor doesn't get in trouble for it this week when the manager will be there, because he (the acting supervisor) is a very nice person who tries too hard, and he deserves good things.
Do I worry if I'LL get in trouble? I mean, I knew I was supposed to go over there, and didn't say anything. Nope. I don't worry. I'll just say I forgot all about it, like everyone else says. Because, once again, I don't care.
I'm thinking of doing some sort of an art piece and calling it "Menopause Central." Something with women and a man all intertwined, and their mouths wide open in a collective shriek, arms and legs all over the place. Kind of like Twister with biddies.
The only good thing about having to work there is that my hands get a rest from all the squeezing and pulling and lifting, so my CTS stays pretty calm and doesn't wake me up at night.
I almost always get sent to The Store after a few hours of my normal job, so by the time I have to leave, I'm sweaty and my clothes are wet, and my hair is wild-looking and ucky. I have to go into the wheelchair-stall in the bathroom, and clean myself up with a kitchen towel impregnated with baby bath soap, and change into the uniform-clothes I always have to have available. I hate doing this! It's horribly awkward, and I have to do it as quickly as possible, so I can get to The Store as quickly as possible. Which means I take my time, because I am sooo not going out of my way to please the ss-holes that be. I just don't care.
There are 5 women and a man who are permanently attached to The Store. I don't fit in, not even a little bit. These 5 women are in the middle of menopause, and the man may as well be. Which is why I call this place "Menopause Central." Everyone there is a biddy. They're not old; I think the oldest is only in her mid-fifties, but even the man (who is nicknamed "Papa" because he's a grandfather now)is a biddy. He talks like a biddy and he walks like a shuffling old biddy.
Every one of them (including Papa) has something going on, and the estrogen in that place can send you through the ceiling-- no one is doing their menopause naturally. I have to listen to and watch them have hot flashes, talk about their thinning hair and their "zero thyroid." They're scaring the scheist out of me, because I haven't hit menopause yet, and don't want to be like them when I do! They all have more than one personality, too, it seems. One minute they're mellow and laid-back, and the next minute at least one of them is shrieking about something. Usually about something I've done "wrong." Translated-- not the way THEY do things. Forget it's still correct, it's not THEIR way. I'm getting really good at ignoring the corrections. They never correct me alone, in back, where no one can see. NOOO, they do it in front of the customers, while I'm in the middle of a transaction. They bring my mistake out from the back, lay it on the counter between me and the customer, and tell me all about what I did. I just smile, say thank-you-I'll-remember-that-don't-tell-me-again (yes! I say that!)and go on with my customer. I'm not exaggerating when I say that there is NEVER one day, not ONE, when I don't do something "wrong." Does it embarrass or annoy me? No. I don't care enough.
They don't talk to me much, and that's just fine with me. I have nothing to talk to them about. Well, that's not strictly true-- one of the ladies does animal rescue, so I can talk about that. But she hasn't been there for 2 weeks. Otherwise, I just do my time.
I was supposed to go there yesterday. I started at the Annex (where my very physical job is)at 6, and was supposed to go to The Store at 10:30. But I didn't remind the acting supervisor, and no one from Menopause Central called to ask where I was, so I stayed at the Annex, where I DO fit in, even if it kills my hands and arms. I just hope the acting supervisor doesn't get in trouble for it this week when the manager will be there, because he (the acting supervisor) is a very nice person who tries too hard, and he deserves good things.
Do I worry if I'LL get in trouble? I mean, I knew I was supposed to go over there, and didn't say anything. Nope. I don't worry. I'll just say I forgot all about it, like everyone else says. Because, once again, I don't care.
I'm thinking of doing some sort of an art piece and calling it "Menopause Central." Something with women and a man all intertwined, and their mouths wide open in a collective shriek, arms and legs all over the place. Kind of like Twister with biddies.
Lori finally stopped procrastinating at 4:44 PM
2 Comments:
Sounds like an interesting concept for an art piece but not much fun to work with. Sorry to hear that the working environment is so uncomfortable that it makes you no longer care. So far, we have been pretty lucky over here. I am sure there are some who don't want us around but so far they haven't taken it out directly on us (or at least not me). Most folks are very helpful and encouraging. None of that "slow down, slow down" that I hear goes on in STC though. Everything is about hurry up and get it done which suits me fine. Some of the others are finding it tough though. Take it all in stride and think of all the potential blog fodder! Take care.
Eeeeeeeee! I got a blogshpot too.
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