Oh My Aching Feet & Then WTF!?!?

For the past week, I have been working. There is nothing unusual about that. However, if you've been reading Notations you know there is much more to the story. Before last week, I was out of work for over a year. After being laid off, I went through the throes of The Interview Process, of which I came in second place far too often for my liking. It got me nowhere, no crown, no whirlwind tour, and the winner was always able to fulfill her duties.

So, I started seeking work outside my career path. For an eye blink I thought it would be in Retail. I got not one, but two jobs, at major department stores. The first one was an on-call position. Funny thing is -- they never called me! I called them, twice, to ask about hours. Both times that I did, the person who answered was polite, apologetic, and promised a return phone call soon. I went through their training and that was that. I hope to receive a check in the mail for my training time served. We'll see. If not, I have another phone call to make to them. The second Retail job was also for part-time hours much to my chagrin. I am certain that in the interview full time was discussed, but halfway through training I was informed otherwise. So much for that. One week of on-the-job training and I was on the job hunt again. In order to buy food and pay rent, I need at least 40 hours a week.

Around the corner from where I live is a store where I have sent faxes on occasion. The last time I sent a fax was about 2-3 weeks ago. While filling out the cover sheet, I noticed a help wanted sign on the counter. I asked about it and was handed an application. I returned it, completed, the following day.

Long story short, as the saying goes, I was hired a few days later. I am now a packaging, shipping, faxing, copying apprentice. I even have a logo shirt and name tag to prove it. Oh, I've never been more proud! Hey, this job is $8.00 an hour, probably 40 hours a week. I might even be able to see a movie once in awhile! After I catch up on all my overdue bills, that is.

Anyway, back to my feet. The two that are aching. And when I say "aching" I mean excruciating throbbing agony. For all of my adult life, I have had a desk job. You know, a sit-down job where the computer is right in front of me, a bottle of water at my fingertips, snacks in a handy drawer to my left, phone just to the right of my keyboard, bathroom just down the hall. I don't think that in all of my adult life I have needed to stand up for more than 30 consecutive minutes, maybe 60 if the movie I was in line for was a blockbuster on opening weekend.

Well, after a week at this packaging, shipping, faxing, copying store, I have arrived at the conclusion that Humankind was not meant to stand for any extended length of time. Why else would inventors have toiled so long and hard to perfect the chair, stool, lounger, bed, couch, sofa, davenport, wing-back, bench, rocker, chesterfield, divan, love seat... well, you get the idea.

We have a fascination with sitting and we're very good at it. Standing is over-rated. Actually, its never even been rated at all. We don't like to stand. It affects our posture, causing us to slouch and slump. It strains our backs and puts uncomfortable tweaks in our necks. It even swells our feet and legs. Why then does every single store I have ever entered force their cashiers to stand in front of their machines for hour after hour? Seems simple enough to have available a chair or, heck, even a stool to sit upon when the feet hit that inevitable wall. You know that wall. It's when when emergency signals race up to the brain screaming "Take the freaking load off us. We're little and way down here. We can't take your weight for one more damned second!"

You never see management standing for eight or more hour shifts. No no, they sit in comfy chairs, sipping coffee, gossiping and giggling about which poor slob they'll send all the way to The Back to get more (heavy) inventory to stock on shelves and racks. Or maybe it'll be a mission all the way on the other side of the store in a department you don't even work in. And then they'll watch on monitors or slouched over a counter to ensure that said slob does not hesitate or sit or lean upon a counter for even half a minute.

You might think I'm exaggerating. Maybe I am, but surely not by much. In my latest endeavor at the packaging, shipping, faxing, copying store, the owner sits for much of the day (when he is there at all) at his desk toward the rear of the store. Typically, he is occupied by his phone or his computer, while eavesdropping on his slobs at the front as they handle the customers. For all I know, he's surfing porn back there.

When he hears something we say that he feels requires additional explanation (and usually much to the dismay of the customer who just wants to drop off his or her package and escape), he jumps up and yes... stands! For about five or six minutes, before returning to the security and comfort of his chair.

The counters of his store where I and the other employees stand are just a little too high for us to easily slide on and off of. There isn't even a chance of resting a single butt cheek to offer our suffering swollen feet a moment's reprieve. On purpose? You decide.

I purchased new rubber soled shoes and even added cushioning. I was "gellin'" but it sure wasn't "workin'" for me. Four hours of solid standing and I whimper my way daily to the bathroom where at least women have the luxury of a porcelain throne to recline upon for a few precious minutes. Whether I actually need to go or not is not the issue. What is important is that I lengthen my stay there for as long as possible without letting anyone think I've fallen in or perhaps died. And then back to the slightly too high counter for me until I hit the next insurmountable wall.

A co-worker has happily told me that your feet never stop hurting. I thanked her for such a blessing to look forward to.

And then....

Today, I got laid off.

Yeah, again. From a crap job. Seems that the person who was supposed to be leaving changed his mind when the boss offered him something he couldn't refuse. Horse's head, anyone?

So, tomorrow off I go again on the Job Hunt. Yay me. At least this time, I know what to expect.

It's going to hurt.

I Have Seen "The Back"

Yesterday was my first real day of work at the retail store that hired me. Placed in the lingerie department, I was tasked with the monumental chore of organizing the boxed panties. You know the ones. They come three in a pack, some are all white and some are various colors. Once that was completed, I had to restock them so that the rack was full.

The boxed panty rack was two-sided, so there was a great deal of work to be done. It seemed that the hipster style was mixed in with the bikinis, which were mixed in with the briefs, which were mixed in with the hi-cuts. And the sizes were all over the place. What a mess! Soon enough, I realized that I would need more stock and it would be helpful to have it while I re-organized. This way, I'd be able to fill in missing sizes, styles, etc. as I worked.

A quick chat with the floor manager (or whatever the heck her title is) confirmed that I was correct. She bid me follow, opened a rather non-descript door that was mostly hidden between wall displays of slips, nightgowns, and bras, and disappeared within. I noticed that this door had a lock on it. I cautiously followed. And found myself in a tiny but long room stuffed full of boxes of various sizes.

"Careful," she called to me as she trudged purposefully to the end. "Don't trip. Watch your step."

Clearly, this was excellent advice. Boxes and miscellaneous lingerie type stuff was everywhere. Jutting out of open boxes, haphazardly shoved onto shelves, and generally lying in wait for an unsuspecting foot it could trip up.

I blinked in the semi-darkness. Yeah, seems the fluorescent lighting wasn't working that well in this dank little hole in the wall. Where had the manager gone? Oh, there she was, just ahead of me. In no more than six or seven steps we reached the pile of boxes that held the panties we sought. I wanted to feel, just a little, like Indiana Jones, but there was simply no room for a gigantic round rock to chase me from the bounty we planned to steal. You couldn’t even manage a pebble in here. Oh well. The two-step ladder became, for a moment, my arch nemesis as it tried to keep me from “being careful.” But a last second catlike sidestep foiled its evil plan.

Suddenly I realized where I was.

"Hey!" I said. "This is the back, isn't it?" The manager smiled at my epiphany. "This is where you go when someone asks if you have a different size or color in stock."

"Yes, that's right," the manager said as she handed me an awkwardly shaped box chock full of panties.

We then did a little dance, really mostly me just melding myself into the wall as much as possible so that the manager had room to squeeze by me on the way out, while I marveled at my first glimpse into what had once been the mysterious, mystical, magical... Back.

Pee in a Cup & Other Training Adventures

A few days ago, I peed into a cup. This is not typical behavior for me. I much rather prefer the expanse of a proper bowl.

For those of you who haven't been following, I finally landed a job. Two jobs actually. And one of them required that I pee into a cup to assure them that I was not a crackhead or some other sort of crazed drug demon. I'll not go any further into details. Suffice it to say that I passed this exam with flying colors. Despite knowing that I do not do drugs, I did feel an odd sense of accomplishment. Less than two days later I got the phone call from the store to come in to complete the hiring process. Go me! More paperwork.

Meanwhile, I'd already started training at the first store that had hired me. For some reason, they didn't require any bathroom related activities from me. Instead, I had to sit in front of a computer for hours in order to go through their automated training process. At least there was a morning orientation, the highs and lows of retail work presented by a man with a great sense of humor. He had been in retail for about three years. He had a wealth of knowledge to impart and I listened closely. I even participated.

I surprised myself by the participation, but it is true that I'm going into this new retail job (career?) on full attack mode. I want to know how to perform my new responsibilities to the best of my ability. I want to learn, grow, and understand. Mainly, I just want to succeed. So, I answered questions when I thought I knew the answer. And I asked questions when I wanted something clarified. It was an enjoyable session. The other new hires were a varied assortment of individuals who helped to make the experience a valuable one.

But then! Oh the pain of the computer session that followed. Wearing headphones to listen to cookie cutter marketing types describe the various functions I needed to know was a fair bit of torture. It wasn't humorous, witty, or entertaining in the slightest. It was, in fact, so dry that it made me crave a sweet sip of refreshing water. Yes, water, and none was available.

The nightmare continued as we moved onto cash register training. It was an impressive system of computer examples and explanations tied into training cash registers for hands on learning. Need I say at this point that I've never used a cash register in my life? Yes, this really is my first entry into the world of retail. Before my defunct career in online market, the jobs I had consisted of things like summer camp counselor and making sandwiches at my college's requisite Rathskeller. Maybe my parents spoiled me a wee bit, but that's not what this is about.

Of course, I understand that I need to learn the ins and outs of this department store's cash registers. Of course, I know how vital to my job it is. But oh how I wanted to cry when the fake credit cards didn't ring right or the fake check didn't go through the machine the right way. I suppose I didn't need a drink of water anymore as I could, by now, just lick the sweat from my brow.

Okay, I'm exaggerating, but it really wasn't easy. It did make me feel better that the girl at the station next to me was having an equal amount of difficulty. The expression "misery loves company" became a cliché for a reason. Finally, I reached the end of the lesson, answered the test questions and miraculously passed. I was told to come back the following day for more training. What?!? Oh dear.

It turns out that the following day was a store sale day so no one was available to conduct the training. We were sent home. I'm now waiting to be called for my first hours while being in the middle of three days of similar, but much more in-depth, computer training at retail job number two. My head is spinning and we haven't even gotten to register training on this job.

While all this is going on and my head is about to explode trying to figure out how to juggle these two part time jobs, I got a phone call about an application I submitted at a potential job that is located around the corner (literally) from my home. I have an interview on Monday morning.

The plot continues to thicken!

Retail Loves Me

Yesterday something remarkable happened. I was handed a job. Just like that. Easy peasy. This makes two days in a row that I've sought and found employment. Sure, there's nothing particularly amazing about this except for the fact that I've been looking for a job for over a year now. Obviously, with no luck.

I'll elaborate. For the past 10 years, I've been an online marketer. I was happy about this and good at it. I'd created a career for myself that paid a respectable salary after my disastrous decision to major in English in college. I’d thought I’d become a publishing maven. After a short jaunt in those old school halls, I discovered, much to my dismay, that the pay in publishing is near non-existent on the first few rungs of the ladder. At least it was back then. I doubt that's changed very much today.

So when I discovered the Internet, my eyes opened to a whole new world of possibilities. I wrangled a job in the internet department of a large company and began to make my mark. I settled happily on search engine marketing (those fancy little ads on the top and side of Google) and I made my new company a lot of unexpected income. Go me! Or so I thought. Once I'd shown them the way to go, they decided to hire an agency to do the work I'd been doing for them and then proceeded to give me the boot. I suppose that was a lesson for me. There's no loyalty in business.

Well, I went ahead and made an entire pitcher of lemonade from those sour lemons (I added a lot of sugar). I landed a much better job in my newly chosen career path and six years later was promptly laid off when the economy took a nosedive. Heh. Serves me right for forgetting my hard learned lesson about loyalty.

Over a year has gone by since that fateful day in May when I got that phone call from Human Resources. The one that says, "Hey, Diane. Can you stop by my office for a minute?" And off I went again to update my resume and hit the interview beat. Trouble was, this time around, there were dozens of me's out there all seeking the same job because they'd been laid off too. Well, they must all have been hired because the opportunities dried up. I was left holding a worthless piece of paper in one hand (my resume) and a ton of bills in my other hand.

I can't even count how many times I came in second to the person who did get the job. Better luck next time. We'll keep your resume on file. I can't count how many times I got an email saying how impressed they were with my qualifications but they decided to go another way. I started to doubt myself.

I stopped looking altogether, needing a break from all the rejection, and rode the unemployment pony for awhile. I caught up on The View and became addicted to HGTV while silently cursing those people who turned down potential homes because they didn't like the color of the granite counter tops. They were quibbling over an inch or two of workspace in the kitchen while I wondered where the next rent check would come from.

Alright, I'm getting a little maudlin. I haven't been quite that desperate yet. But it is true that my savings is almost sucked dry and I was thrown from the pony when unemployment stopped rolling in each week.

Ok, enough. Back to the good news.

I have not one, but two jobs! One full time and one on call. Again, go me!! True, they're both in a field I've never worked in and the pay is minimum wage, but that's just more lemons for the sweet nectar that is lemonade. Who knew that Retail would love me!? Surely, if I'd known I would have gone a courtin' at the malls much sooner. I wouldn't have gone these long four months without the bolstering arrival of a check in the mail. Now, I have an income! Minuscule, sure, but it's a start. I'm going to ride this sucker to the finish line. I'm going to awaken my dormant ambitions to new goals. There's a huge ladder in Retail and I'm going to climb it.

Tomorrow, I must go pee in a cup to assure my new employer that I am not on drugs.

Stay tuned. This is going to get good.