I've been terrible at blogging this summer.
The season had an exciting start; looking back I was doing fun stuff all the time (Sasquatch, Portland, etc). Now... I work. And I hate it. Everything I do in the gift shop is undone the next week, not because of any sort of quality control, but because that is just the nature of working in a shop. You have to constantly move the same few things around to get the attention of the customer. This week we have Shark stuff on display, before then it was Lemurs and Belugas pre-Lemur. It's impossible to feel any sort of satisfaction with anything you've done when you fold 150 t-shirts at 10:30 a.m. and by 4:00 p.m. they're all in a heap on the floor in the corner. When you have to pretend to be interested in what the customer is purchasing. When you have to pretend to care that there aren't any more Beluga tumblers or plush Sloths. And the word 'plush,' holy GOD, what is wrong with calling them stuffed animals? Syllables: a gift shop has no time to dilly dally with them. My boss/coworkers are sexist, I never get to leave the store because working Strollers or getting stuff from storage is for the boys. Girls don't know how to do any "real" work so just smile at the register and take the money. Fold the shirts. Make the displays all pretty. Sort the PLUSH.
August 16th cannot come soon enough.
The season had an exciting start; looking back I was doing fun stuff all the time (Sasquatch, Portland, etc). Now... I work. And I hate it. Everything I do in the gift shop is undone the next week, not because of any sort of quality control, but because that is just the nature of working in a shop. You have to constantly move the same few things around to get the attention of the customer. This week we have Shark stuff on display, before then it was Lemurs and Belugas pre-Lemur. It's impossible to feel any sort of satisfaction with anything you've done when you fold 150 t-shirts at 10:30 a.m. and by 4:00 p.m. they're all in a heap on the floor in the corner. When you have to pretend to be interested in what the customer is purchasing. When you have to pretend to care that there aren't any more Beluga tumblers or plush Sloths. And the word 'plush,' holy GOD, what is wrong with calling them stuffed animals? Syllables: a gift shop has no time to dilly dally with them. My boss/coworkers are sexist, I never get to leave the store because working Strollers or getting stuff from storage is for the boys. Girls don't know how to do any "real" work so just smile at the register and take the money. Fold the shirts. Make the displays all pretty. Sort the PLUSH.
August 16th cannot come soon enough.
Hang in there baby.