life · retail

The Problem Is…

It might sound absurd, but I love working retail. I really do.

The customers might be outrageous, and sometimes corporate comes out with ridiculous policies, and the managers aren’t always the greatest, and sometimes you just get stuck with really shitty coworkers—but I love every aspect of it.

Or, I used to.

I used to love it when a customer would come and get my blood boiling—it made for a hilarious story later.

I used to love it when corporate came up with a ridiculous new policy—it would create a good laugh for me and my coworkers, and it was funny to watch customers get heated about the new rules too.

I used to love causing grief for my less than favorable managers, because I could be just as shitty to them as they were to me!

Now, everything that I used to love causes me nothing but overwhelming stress and anxiety. I hate going to work every morning. I hate a good 98% of my coworkers, or at least find something to hate about 100% of them because I’m so fucking angry all the time. I hate my boss and that he fucking plays favorites and no one gives a shit when you complain to the higher-ups about it. I hate the customers and all their whining and holier-than-thou attitudes. I hate everyone, I hate this store, I hate this fucking job, I hate everything.

And yet, I know the problem is just this store particularly. Other stores are a little more well managed. Other stores have better managers, and will actually appreciate the fucking strain my job puts on me. Other stores have better fucking employees. Other stores are just fucking better.

I desperately need my job—I have four years of seniority. That’s four years of my life I wasted in this hole that I can never get back. I make good money here and I work great hours. I know the job—this is, essentially, the same kind of job I want to do for the rest of my life. I don’t want to hate it because someone else ruined it for me.

But I am so exhausted and angry and stressed.

I hate it here.

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