On first seeing NYC prep

Children pretending they're adults. And throwing around money they neither deserve nor earn...and having loft parties??? Trying to make "connections" in the fashion industry? Living alone with their siblings while their parents live somewhere entirely different?

Thank God I escaped all of that.

R.E.S.P.E.C.T. means nothing to some people.

Sometimes, when I'm walking around and straightening things at work, I suspect that some women shopping at my store intentionally hang things in stupid ways or places. Just to test me.

Or: the majority of shoppers are quite rude and see no issue with taking three different clothing items and hanging them all next to each other on a rack of something completely different from those three items...

Or: the shoppers are lazy...too lazy to give me their clothing to re-hang and put in the appropriate places...

Or: they're shy and would rather not ask for my help...

Or: they're remarkably unintelligent...

Or: (this is my personal theory) they have absolutely no respect for me or my intelligence because of the job I have, consider it beneath them to draw my attention to something I'll figure out later, and feel no qualms about ruining the hours of work I've put in to keeping the store looking nice. Because I'm just a young salesperson. It's my place to clean up after them, the wits.

*bitterly* The other day this woman came in and asked me what the largest size we carry in shirts is. I took a moment to answer, because I considered it a stupid question, but eventually I realized she may sincerely not know. So I answered (politely) "extra large."
"What?" she replied.
"Extra large," I repeated, more loudly this time (perhaps she's deaf).
"No...What is the LARGEST SIZE you carry," she said, speaking to me like she might to a mentally handicapped worker...or a brain-dead high school drop-out.
I blinked, dumbfounded, and repeated at full volume, "EXTRA LARGE."
"You know, like small, medium, large..."
"extra large..."
She sighed, disappointed in my lack of comprehension, and stalked away.

I can't stand it when people see my youth and my job and automatically dismiss me as beneath their level of intelligence.

I also can't stand it when they think I'm 18. Last summer, a woman came in with her 16-or-so-year-old daughter, saw me working, and said to the girl, "You could get a job, too, and be like her."

I'm 23. Minus three weeks. Twenty-three. I have almost two degrees...a little RESPECT, please, like the kind I show YOU [to your face]. I may be young, but I'm not an idiot.

I'm poor, so sue me (what could you take, really? My crappy second-hand clothes?)

I wish companies would pay me for the work I do for them. Based on compensation, the work I've been doing for the past four weeks could be termed volunteering.

GIVE ME MY FIVE-HUNDRED DOLLARS.

jerks.

bittersweet

I guess I don't deal well with change. During the semester, I could mostly ignore it, but in summer when I play housewife on most days (enjoying this quite a bit) I have time to think about what's different.

In the past year, my priorities have completely changed. My beloved parents have been with me through it all, approving of my boyfriend and understanding when I can't visit for quite as long because of work and [lack of] money. It makes me wish I'd dug in somewhere closer to home, so that I could buy the gas to go see them...however, I must accept for now what I cannot change.

The dingy rusted lining to this wonderful year--because it has been wonderful; I found companionship, my best friend got married to a great guy, and a quirky but charming cat joined my family--is that I no longer feel approved of by everybody. It could be entirely my imagination (it isn't), but I feel the frustration from old friends that I can't just hop in the car and drive to them anymore now that mom and dad aren't funding me and I have "we" to think about rather than just "me," and I feel their dislike for my boyfriend and the time I spend with him.

Of course, I have some wonderful friends that have been patient with me and understanding of the shifts in my life, and my love for them has grown exponentially this year because of that.

summer

Phew...Summer...brain is on standby most of the time. At long last, I sort of have a home. My face looks like it's slowly drying off, but I don't care. Because I can shower if I want to. No competition...and when I get out of the shower, I won't be cold, because I will have set the thermostat to the temperature I like.

I know more about Jon and Kate now than I ever thought I would, thanks to all of my free time. I'm even developing opinions on their character. And I can tell their children apart, mostly.

*blink*

This time of the semester, only short entries.

My right eye twitches...not sure if this is an after-effect of last week's corneal abrasion trauma, but it nevertheless serves to underline the sense of barely suppressed dissolution of my together-ness.

I am of the opinion that, if you write it down, it will get done.  We shall see.

I get an email from Hawaii. My parents are having a great time--they saw a volcano and felt an earthquake. And I'm here, feeling 5 years old, sad that they're so far away...