I Can Only Go Up From Here

You know what’s bullshit? My job.

You know what’s worse than that? The pay.

This is my first blog entry so let me tell you a little bit about myself. Or actually welcome to my brain.

I  think I represent a large majority of today’s mid-twenty year olds.  We’re overeducated and overqualified.  We’ve spent far too much time and far too much money for a quality education. We finished undergraduate programs, went on to graduate programs or professional programs with the expectation that we would achieve something great.

That’s what I thought.

Instead, I finished school at the height of a recession, returned to my home town, moved back in with the parentals – without the slightest clue about the kind of job I wanted.

I only knew what I didn’t want to do. For example, I knew – for certain – that I didn’t want to be anyone’s ‘administrative assistant,’ which is a rather fancy title for a Starbucks bitch.

F that. Someone should be fetching my non-fat Vanilla latte with nutmeg sprinkles.  Naturally, someone would recognize my qualifications and seek me out for employment.  (Laugh it up but this was seriously how delusional grad school made me.)

Yeah that hasn’t worked out.

In the meantime, I decided to return to my old retail job, where I work with my dear overqualified and underpaid friend, Tdotgirl. I figured this job would give me some boozing money until the Prime Minister, reflecting upon my untapped genius, offered me the position of Governor-General.

One year of underemployment and net annual income of $7,000 later, Harper still hasn’t called.

And I’ve become a far less pleasant person.

Why you may ask? No no.. it isn’t just because I’ve become disillusioned that the big breasted blonde (and yes she was a twit) in my program has federal job on Parliament Hill. It is because I spent the entire holiday season behind a counter, ringing through the grumpy, the rude, the cheap, the miserable and the idiotic.  And each of them – without fail – would assault me because I didn’t have a gift box for them.

Customer: Do you have a box?
Me: No I’m sorry we’ve run out.
Customer: But it is Christmas.
Me: Yes, exactly.
Customer: Well how can you run out during Christmas? What am I supposed to do with this? (getting frazzled and sweaty) How am I supposed to wrap this? I need a box.

Yes, I know WHAT AN ABSOLUTE FUCKING ABOMINATION! GET THE HELL OVER IT! IT IS DECEMBER 21 AND YOUR CHEAP LAZY ASS WAITED UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE TO FIND SOMETHING IN A SHITSTORM OF A PRE BOXING WEEK SALE. I DON’T HAVE A BOX. NOT FOR YOU AND NOT FOR THE 67 OTHER PEOPLE LINED UP BEHIND YOU WAITING FOR THEIR TURN TO YELL AT ME EITHER. GO GREEN.

Sigh.

In reality, I would apologize, smile, offer them tissue paper, and direct them to the mall gift wrapping centre.

Oh ya. My boss is a M O R O N.

xoxo

Mastergirl