Tuesday, November 29, 2011


Last night I got an e-mail from my past self (FutureMe.org). Talk about a mind-fuck. I need to better my life. I have way too much time to think, and that's never good. It's just a conveyer belt, going 'round and 'round. Time to throw some action into the mix.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


I wanted to say to her, "Maybe if you lost your attitude and superiority complex, you'd realize there's a whole lot more this world can give you than what you currently have."

Then I thought, hey, girl, that's good advice, now turn it back 'round on yourself.

Sunday, November 20, 2011


I am alone. Impatiently alone. I want someone, some partner, whom I love and who loves me, and I want him now. Impatient like tonight at work, at 5:30, when I'm off at 7 and just wanted to go home, right then. Because all the bullshit I had to slog through to get to 7 (which turned out to be 7:50, because oh, 7 means closing, don't you know?) was just that - bullshit. Fold the clothes, hang the clothes, tweak the fucking clothes. Make sure everything's perfect, and then you're released.

I want him, my future boyfriend, my future love NOW (does he exist? Are my hopes implausible? Do I sound like an oh-so-dreamy Twilight-loving tween? God I hope not).

The thing is this: I want someone who makes me laugh, whom I make laugh. A good kisser. We love being near each-other. I'm happy to see him. He's happy to see me. We walk down the street and he takes my hand. He'll kiss me, out of nowhere, just because.

All the sweet, romantic shit. Hell yeah, I want that. I want someone who I adore, who adores me. Will I find that? Will I? Does that exist? Someone whole, and unattached, and lovely? Will I find that - and equally important, will someone find me and think all these same things?

Tonight, I sleep alone. I wish I had someone next to me. A warm body to reach for. A comforting face. That would be nice.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011


I wonder, sometimes (all the time).... what the hell is wrong with me.


One good thing -- the first time, ever, my editor has responded to my story saying she couldn't fit all of it in the paper, but it will all go online. No edits. (But I don't trust that I won't get a phone call tomorrow.)


There's a new kid at work. He's my new best friend. We have identical senses of humor. We can chit-chat. He's going to fix me up with his firefighter friend. Manna from Heaven?

I saw an old face yesterday. I missed it. Saw another old face today. I didn't miss that one.


Board of Ed meeting last night. I continue to think two weeks is the perfect measure of time to see the small changes in your life.

Oh, and I hate these meetings. They are so boring, and I can never seem to write a good article.

So I'm sitting here, laptop on the lap, notes by my side, photos (which the editor will hate) already loaded and attached to the email.

And nada.

I don't want to write. Deadline's in two hours. It would take me one, if I would just do it.

I am not a good worker. I am not a good writer. I don't know what to do.

Monday, November 14, 2011


I've been busy. Away to D.C. for three days with the mom and sister. Oh, such a fascinating experiment to throw three female family members together for an extended (?) period of time.
It was a lovely trip.

Monday, November 7, 2011


I want to write, but what about?

A list of random thoughts, alrighty!

-Work has been crazy-busy, but it occupies the mind.
-When you're left to sit still for too long, my mind goes to bad places.
-This includes, lately, every night when I turn off my light to sleep. The thoughts come too fast. Always the same one. Don't believe the things you tell yourself so late at night. You are your own worst enemy, you'll never win the fight.
-Shocker, hormone levels effect your mood. Break. Ing. news. Turns out there was a reason, other than a flaw in my personality, that I was in tears last week.
-Living alone can get lonely. (Sure, I have a roommate, but she's just a roommate, and we're passing ships in the night. I miss living with my friend.)
-A phone call from a friend can relaly brighten the day.
-ONE nice customer can totally change your mood.
-So can a bad one.
-So can stepping away and taking a breather.
-I will always appreciate a new and undiscovered source of good writing.
-Francis and the Machine - Shake it Off. Listen to on repeat.
-Life is crazy.
-Life is boring.
-Life is repetitive.
-It can change in an instant.
-But change can be gradual, or dramatic.
-Fear is the thing that holds us back. Fear is the strongest thing we will ever build, and its strength relies entirely on our own self-delusion.
-Inactivity is a manfiestation of laziness, complacency, and perhaps fear.
-Christmas music should really not start until after Thanksgiving. November is for turkey, December is for Santa.
-Ditto on the Christmas decorations. Why should Christmas get two whole months of celebration? Makes me dread the holiday.
-Editors can be the nitpickiest creatures.
-Duh, that's what they're paid for.
-Freelancing is hard when you have a full-time job.
-I'm grateful for my job, but I sure wish it paid more. Like, double.
-Still: thankful.
-Alright, that's enough.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

doing something hard > easy way out

To the guys I've liked, who completely dropped out of my life --

It IS hard to make a phone call, explaining that you're not that into me/don't want to be involved/ want to cut off contact.

It's hard, and uncomfortable and awkward, and you don't really know what to say. So, you don't like me anymore. You can't explain attraction. It's there or it isn't. Maybe you liked me a week ago, and today, not so much. Or life's circumstances arose, and.....yeah. Explaining something is hard.

But guess what? The injured party appreciates the thought. Also, the dignity of being recognized as a human worthy of a fucking phone call - which is not a lot, but also is.

So I picked up my cell phone and dialed his number, and said I'm sorry, I've been thinking about you the past few days, and I'm not ready for a relationship. And I'm sorry, I really am, it's me and my own issues, and you're a really nice guy, and I feel bad - but it's just the way it is.

It's better than the coward's way out, is all I'm saying.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Thursday, October 27, 2011

day of friends.

Rainy rainy day. Day off work. Got to spend the entire day visiting different friends, chatting about everything. Most people hate the rain, but I love it. Love the cold, gray drizzle and sloshing of puddles.

song lyric of the day: "I'm ready to suffer, I'm ready to hope."

Short post today, not much on my mind.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011


Sometimes the customer who comes in ten minutes before the store closes, messes up your displays and talks LOUDLY with her friends will be the one who chit-chats with you at the register and treats you like an actual human being, then apologizes for coming in late as she doesn't like being the "reason" the mall isn't closed yet.


Tuesday, October 25, 2011


Saw Paranormal Activity 3. Now sitting on the couch with every light in the apartment on (not the bathroom, so not "every")-- what was that? Nothing. You imagined it. It's dead silent. Dead. Deadly. Ummmmmm, OK, anyway.

Wrestling. There's something I want that I can definitely, in no way have. But I waaaaant it. And it's hard. It hurts me, a little bit. A little twinge. The sadness spills over. So sad. I need to make a change.

Want to move to the city. For real. Well. I've been saying that for a year. Longer.

Maybe this is different. Because I really do need a REAL, tangible change. Sick of this daily grind. Need a change of scenery. Need to get off Long Island. Need to get away from myself. (Ah, but there is no running from oneself, not really!) Maybe just get some distance between this thing I want but can definitely not have. Forget about the thing. Distract myself with something shiny.

I don't want to be here anymore. Don't want to work retail through the holiday season. A vision of me sitting, crumpled, on the sales floor, folding pajamas at 2a.m. and sobbing, is a little to clear in my head. But it's what I know. Which is why I've stayed so long. (Maybe. Who knows "why" anything, really. Our minds are a bunch of swirling questions, at least mine is.)

Tired of driving all over Long Island, although I really do love driving - it relaxes me.

I can't get through another winter here. I want to be in the city. I want a new start. I'm only 22. I deserve it. Right?

Monday, October 24, 2011

a thought

Writing articles is infinitely easier when you got all your questions answered already.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

chilled air.

Maybe it's the weather. This cold feels firmer, like it's here to stay. As we soldier on towards winter, the leaves are flying off (fewer brilliant reds this year, I'm seeing mostly muted orange and yellows). The cold feels thick. I see my breath. Maybe that's why this most recent dark mood. A lot of people are having bad days. A lot of people seem to be in "funks" or "spells", whatever name we give that hard-to-describe "off" feeling.

Sure, fall and winter have the cute clothes. The mittens and animal hats, the boots and new colorful (or classic) coats. But the cold, cold air? Static cling, dry skin, sun that glares off the icy snow and hurts our eyes. Sigh. Winter's on its way.

The last week has been interesting.

It's interesting how very fast time flies. And I'm only 22.

Boys come and go, literally walk in and out of life. Career tracks hiccup and entirely falter. Friends lose touch. Family is a relative term. Economy and government, those big, soulless words that are always on peoples' TV sets and minds, but never quite tangible in daily life (at least not mine, I suppose I am lucky).

And the seasons change, and Father Time marches on.

Thursday, October 20, 2011


Today was an interesting day that I can't quite put into words, and am not sure I want to put into a public forum.

The last few days were tiring, and I learned something - how lucky I am. Lucky, because I have friends of all ages whom I can turn to when my family is absent, physically or emotionally. And when you're falling apart, you need family. So, I'm lucky I have a sister-from-another-mister who got what I was saying, and listened to me sob, and got mad with me, and said all the right things.

I am so lucky. So blessed.

Thursday, October 13, 2011


That was a whole lot of work for just two stories. And though they're done and e-mailed to the editor, all it takes is an e-mail back or a phone call to have me scramming again. Wait, what, those photos were shit? You want a quote from who? Confirm that source's title?

Well, the photo demand may happen. But all in all, I know my stories were good. I had good sources, I had good quotes, I think I strung it together to make sense. That's hot.

It was fun. Could I make it my living? Still unknown. But it sure is satisfying to watch the words string together on the page, and to like the story you're telling.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

being nosy

Being a journalist can be fun. The phone calls, the questions, scribbling everything down with a pen, later decoding your chicken-scratch into legible notes-n-quotes. Thinking while your source is talking, what to ask next, oh shit, that was a good quote, what did they say?!?!

And it can be fun to be nosy.


Tuesday, October 11, 2011


Weird, the stuff your brain remembers. Forgotten for ages, and then the wind blows, a fragment of dust loosens, a brain cell bumps into another cell and a memory pops in.

Last night I was watching Whose Line Is It Anyway? Just for five minutes before flipping it off and going to bed. But I remembered an entire limmerick they sang in a different episode. I don't even know the last time I watched that show -- years. But somewhere, my brain retained it.

And the other day, I was thinking about the silverware at my house. No, really.

It's not my house anymore. I left that house in a whirlwind flurry-of-fury. And I sometimes realize I can't go back. Not that I want to. I don't. But it's a light tug beneath your skin to realize - that old box of school shit? I can't throw it away. That bowl with the cartoon mouse? It's there. The spoons I've eaten soup and ice cream off of for ten years are there.

(I forget that my dog is not. I always imagine that he is, though.)

Oh, whatever. Tragedy. You can buy new spoons. Silverware is unimportant. It took me four months to even remember its existence. Just one of those small things.

Like when you move to a new place, you remember the big things. The bathroom is different, the route you take to work, the neighborhood. But you don't remember that tree you always eyed on your drive home. You forget the house with the drawing in the window. You forget the rhythmic, predictable cycle of thoughts you always had on your familiar route.

Until a cell bumps agaisnt another cell. And then you remember something small.

Monday, October 10, 2011


I lied. It's the next night. A very long, long day at work. Busy busy. messy messy. Third night closing in a row.

I went to do some extra-mile-reporting this morning, only I am so afraid to walk up to a stranger and introduce myself and ask some goddamn questions. Why? Why this anxiety? Why?

And if it's because maybe I don't really want to be a reporter, then, please -- so what. I need to do something. Why can't I just do.it.?

I said this to my supervisor and she didn't understand. Can't imagine me being shy, she said. Can't understand why it'd be hard for me, it should be easy.

I don't know, I shrugged, face down, because I DON'T know. I don't know why I can't. I have ideas. Overwhelming self-consciousness, shyness leftover from childhood, social anxiety, fear of being judged, of sounding stupid, of looking dumb OH-THE-HORROR. Who cares? It doesn't matter. People aren't thinking about you, judging you, and if they are, it really doesn't matter what they think.

I know all this. And it's still hard.

Sunday, October 9, 2011


Whoops. Forgot for a few days. But that's because I've been busy being a freelance reporter. How exciting. Phone calls and quesitons and note-takin' and typin'. And photo-takin' 'n' deadlines 'n' stuff.

Off to my menial job now. Will write somethin' tonight.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011


Yesterday: Day off. What did I do? No, really..........OH! Lunch with a friend, library for a few hours, picked up winter clothes from Mom, went to Board of Ed. meeting.

Today: Drove friend to work at 12. Went to work at 2 to closing. So boring. Whoop-ee.

I cover board of education meetings every other work as a freelancer. I've done three.

It's funny the difference two weeks can make. It's a perfect amount of time, really, to tell if you like someone, or you've settled into your home, or if you're happy at work, what friendships have changed, what's new, what's disapepared.

(Wrote this on receipt paper at work. I do that a lot.)

My Life by BOE meetings --

1st one, 9/6 --
He had come over to Mom's apartment. We went for a walk. Some chit-chat, a few kisses. Oddly, a few tears, which he oh-so-gently swept from my face. So sweet. We walk back and he comes inside, just for a minute. We hug goodbye and as we both drive away, he honks and waves.

me: OMG LI drivers!!!
him: i know right?

9/20 --
He called but I couldn't answer. I call back on my way to the meeting. It's an alright conversation, but the fact I haven't seen him in a week is not lost on me.

10/4 --
Deleted his #, deleted the texts a few days ago. Went on a not-a-date last night with someone else. He paid for my ticket and kissed me good-night. It was not a date. I don't have that fluttery feeling, but maybe I could like him.

So what if the butterflies/goosebumps/unicorns-shitting-rainbows aren't there yet? They can form, right? And here's a guy who might like me. And I'm so fucking used to being alone that I worry I always will be. It's not just a habit, it's an ingrained trait. I don't want it to be. (Still, don't force something with someone who isn't right.) But just enjoy the company? For a little while? Forget about the other guy. It's stupid.

(So many brain cells about boys. So. Many. Cells.)

Sunday, October 2, 2011


Sunday is when the crazies come out, my co-worker says. And usually, I agree. But I didn't have to close today, it was busy enough that I was never bored but not so busy I was overwhelmed. Not a single customer annoyed me.

What the hell? Maybe I was well-rested from my count-them, one TWO DAY BREAK, oh-my-God, the feast of relaxation and free time!!!

I even opened two, no, three, credit cards for customers (a total fluke) and was awarded a cheap plastic bag with the company emblem on it with a matching water bottle, neither of which I will ever, ever use, but still - a tiny spot of accomplishment.

Callooh, callay*, October is in the air. You can smell the cold, the scent of burning wood. Drive to the lake and stare at the bruised blue-gray sky after the sun has set. Feel the autumn sink into your skin, for soon the leaves will change.

Merry October! Weather, you may now turn cold, for October is the month for autumn. Anything before then is just a sad death of summer.

This week: Get laptop BACK, dammit. Call sources for two freelance stories. Attend and write story on school board meeting. Let this good mood stick.

*Attachments, by Rainbow Powell. Read it.

Saturday, October 1, 2011


Friday. C's birthday. I don't want to go, I say 5,000X. I don't know anyone. I won't have fun.

Of course I have fun, because alcohol is a social lubricant, and my favorite drug. And a girl from work shows up so I have someone to talk to, and the boy who I've drunkenly made out with before is there and giving me attention and that, with the alcohol, is making him a whole lot cuter.

Is he really a good kisser, or was that the late hour and the alcohol? Who knows. I still have a memory of the old one floating around, though....kind of kills the kissing buzz. (Unfair.)

I never get hangovers (I remember ever getting one in college), and I wasn't bad this morning, but not good. Was so glad I didn't have work. Didn't eat anything til 2. Took a 3.5-hour nap. (Lazy! Sloth! Whatever! It was my day off!)

Saturday. K. makes me dinner. Mac-and-cheese, mashed potatoes, lemon chicken, veggies and crab-stuffed mushrooms. (Sorry, gents, she's taken.) (I am so blessed.) I did bring the wine. I'm not a total mooch.

Pick up N. and go for a drink. We're both tired. The liquid poison feels good. Maybe I did drink way too much last night, if some hair-of-the-dog is soothing at 10pm.

Another weekend. Work tomorrow. It was a nice two days off.

Friday, September 30, 2011

forget it

Irony: an outcome of events opposite to what was expected

Is it "ironic" that it is difficult to forget someone who has forgotten you? Or does it just suck, in its own non-ironic way?

Forget: to cease or fail to remember

Maybe "forget" is the wrong word.


"Cease to contact."

This is not a break-up. It was not a relationship. It was barely a friendship. You meet someone, you kind of like them, you spend a lot of time together for a few weeks and then.... where did he go? No texts, no phone calls, nada, zilch, bleh. He's just not that into you, apparently. Clearly.

You're just left to wander around, being zinged by random bits of memory floating through your conscious. Zing! Ouch! Ka-pow! They come at inopportune times. Lame. Pathetic. Stop dwelling. I'm not dwelling. I just need to keep busy. Find something, or someone, to occupy my mind and time with.

This proves difficult when you'd rather stay hidden inside, watching crappy TV (old re-runs of the Kardashian sisters taking over Miami. All the sisters are married now, damn these episodes are old).

Have to make phone calls for my freelance stories and grocery shop and shower and clean out my car and get my car inspected and find out what the hell is taking Best Buy so damn long to isntall the damn motherboard on my laptop and ask my mother for help with rent a-damn-gain and get the check and figure out how the hell to make an extra $500 a month to pay off my credit card when the interest-free period ends in December and....shit. I will accomplish none of that.

Thursday, September 29, 2011


A new, tiny, miniature goal of mine is to write something every day. Every.single.day.

From a single sentence to a novella.

Here goes.

Life is crazy. News to no one. Things change slowly, and they change fast. Our minds twist and bend in exotic ways until we read a journal entry from tne years ago and roll our eyes, blush with embarrassment and, hopefully, chuckle. Christ, I'm only 22. I'll probably roll my eyes at this tomorrow, because I NEVER feel like I adequately express emotion with words, spoken or written. And I'm a writer. Or, I want to be. I'll always write, even if I'm never paid a dime. I freelance! Does that count? Sure! Stream-of-conscience, A.D.D.....The rain stopped!

Oh, yes, I'll be rolling my eyes at this.

Tuesday I took my mom out for her (belated) birthday dinner, and we both realized the last time we'd been to that restaurant was last year, for her birthday. And while some things have changed, too many things are still the same. Which is a tired old broken record I am sick to death of singing/hearing.

Change: I moved out!
Same: Same job. Same person.

Occurrences: I went to Iceland! And Harry Potter World! I lived a summer in a basement with one of my most favorite people! I did stuff!

...But I'm still the same. I'm still me. Sometimes, I think, I haven't changed at all.

And the sad stuff. That I can never bring myself to mention outright to friends and acquaintances, so I tuck it into a tiny box, hoping to forget.

Why is it that when you're alone, the sad stuff is all that you think about? My head always writes the sad story. It dwells, it takes forever to let go. My head is a bitter old person, harping on the past and how she was wronged. (Yikes. That was a terrifying sentence.)

I'm struggling with the idea that who I want to be and who I am are drastically different, perhaps separated by an uncrossable chasm. I am impatient and unsympathetic with others because I am impatient and unsympathetic with myself. I am stuck. So stuck.

I know life will get better eventually, and I also know that it will happen when I make it happen. It's just the when. When. When. When will I get up off the couch and change myself and my life. When will I demand better for myself? When will I make things change?

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

traffic court

I’m driving my friend home after a cheap dinner at Denny’s. We’re almost to her house, but still in the middle of conversation, so she suggests we keep driving. One block later, siren lights swirl in the rearview mirror. Shit. Pull over.

“Are you aware your taillight is out?”

Yes, the last officer who stopped me told me.“Oh, really, it is? I had no idea.”

“License, registration and insurance card, please.”

I pull the mini folder out of the dashboard compartment. Is this it? No. Is this it? Expired. This? Expired.

“You know what, don’t worry about it,” he says, and takes my license and registration back to his squad car, only to return fifteen minutes later with two summons in hand. One for the taillight, one for not having insurance. Excuse me, sir, what exactly does “don’t worry about it” mean to you?

I’m pissed. My poor friend, who listens to me yell. My poor mom, who I call up and scream at her having the audacity to not know the insurance status on a car she never drives.

I get the taillight fixed the next day (as instructed, because I am an obedient lil’ citizen), and obtain a letter and current insurance card from the company. Mail and stamp all documents and……..........…receive a letter for a traffic court date.

The hell? Then why did I have to mail anything? And spend $10 on getting Certified Mail?

Court date: Apr. 26th. Urrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh.

Last night. Show up. Judge is friendly. A.D.A. confirms the car is insured and taillight is fixed. She confirms this not by looking at any of the documents I brought with me, but taking me complete at my (honest) word.


Charges dismissed.

Fist pump.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

or so they say

Happy Easter.

A celebration of life, a resurrection, a parent’s love for a son being usurped by His love for all humanity. Or so they say.

I’m deep in the black trenches of The Black Cloud, or whatever they call it. It doesn’t really need a name, that swirling. It’s like a vacuum, sucking all the energy from you, and you can only stretch out and stare at whatever brightly-lit screen compels you. Forget reading a book – at the end of the page you won’t remember what was on it.

But laptop, O Glorious Laptop, with links and videos and short, condensed paragraphs. Games to play and pretty pictures to see. Why, I only rarely tire of you.

This time last year was different. I had just returned from my week-long trip to London, visiting my friend studying abroad for the semester. A week of sleeping on the dorm room floor and showering in her flip-flops, too small on my size 10 feet. A week of trekking through London taking pictures of Big Ben and his sister, the round, spinning Eye. The Tower of London, Millennium Bridge, Tower Bridge. I flew across an ocean to meet my friend I hadn’t seen in more than a year. I stamped my feet down foreign streets, through sunshine and drizzle. I came back to a New York spring.

I came back to optimistic dreams. I came back to possibilities. Or so I thought. Really, I was blissfully pulling the blindfold over my own eyes. I had no plans for the future, no interviews, no job prospects, only a faint idealistic dream that an apartment and well-paying job would magically present themselves to me. Wrapped up neat. In a shiny bow.

What have I learned in the last year? Things don’t happen unless you work for them. “Wishing” is just about the lamest thing you can not do, because it really accomplishes nothing. Travel will always be an excellent salve on unhealed hurt. People can disappoint you, also, people lie. This includes you. Nothing ever, ever turns out the way you expected it to. Honesty is usually the best policy, but it turns out, being honest with yourself can be incredibly difficult. You don’t always know the right answer

You are but one tiny person in a sea of billions. Our lives are so small when put in context.

I say I’ve learned things, but have I, really? Sure, I crossed some milestones, but if anything, I feel just like the girl I was in high school, who hid behind the crowd and was too afraid to do anything, let alone raise her voice. The girl who didn’t know who she was. Lost. Maybe the biggest ‘learning stone’ is that we can DO anything, cross off everything on our mile-long bucket list, and still be the same person, not having learned a damn thing.

It is a curse, and sometimes a blessing.

Maybe we can all start over, cleansed of past misdeeds and sins. Maybe we can all resurrect ourselves, if we recognize that we hold that power.

Friday, January 14, 2011

maybe you should take a stand for something that ACTUALLY matters?

*This happened at the beginning of December, just as the holiday craziness was beginning.*

I am tired and patience is running on empty. A woman comes up to pay for a shirt. It’s $15.99, plus tax. $17.67. She’s holding her credit card.

“I had a coupon for 10%...” she trails off. Customers love the trail-off, hoping I will fill in the ending for them.

“OK,” I say, and wait.

“This is a new card,” she explains. “When I got it in the mail, they said I could get 10% off.” There is no such thing. The new cards have a few features, including tracking purchases to reward loyal, big spenders with coupons. But I have never heard of this 10% coupon, and I’m not about to honor a woman’s random claim.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you need the coupon.”

“Yeah, they told me I couldn’t use it down there [at the other register]…” Which is why you came down here, even though an employee already told you no?

“I’m sorry. If you find the coupon and bring it back with the receipt, we can do a price adjustment,” I offer. I know she won’t find the coupon. It doesn’t exist.

I ring up the shirt and swipe her credit card through.

“Can you please sign?” I ask.

She stares. “How much was the shirt?” she demands.


“No. The original price,” she snits.

After the credit card is swiped, a window opens on the screen, waiting for the customer’s signature. I cannot access the list of purchases until the customer signs.

“I can’t see it,” I try to explain. I show her the screen. “I can’t see it until you sign.”

“Well, if I sign, the purchase goes through,” she snits again. This woman is dancing on top of my already-frazzled nerves.

“Fine,” I huff. I cancel the sale, take the shirt out of the bag, and re-ring it.

“You’d think you’d be happy people are shopping in your store.” Snit.

Ring. Original cost: $40.00. Sale price: $15.99. Total: $17.67. So glad we learned all that. I swipe her card again. She signs. I hand her the bag. She throws it back on the counter.

“You know what? Return it.”

Excuse me?

“Return it. I don’t like your attitude.”

I stare at this woman. I am not about to fight with her over a $16 shirt. If she wants to indulge in the delusional belief she is taking a stand over the snooty salesgirl, let her. She wants to think her $16 sale makes one iota of difference in this business conglomerate, let her. We don’t want you here anyway. Go back to Walmart.

I tap out the necessary buttons. Return. Scan receipt. Scan shirt. Swipe card. I take devilish pleasure in demanding that she sign again. I staple all the receipts together and hand them to her.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t solve your problem today,” I say, and move onto the next customer.