Fired up, then just plain fired… (Part 2)

12:00 – 13:00

At midday I was upgraded to ‘door’ duty. I had to stand on the door, ON THE FREAKIN DOOR! Must have slipped the manager’s mind that it’s winter and therefore FREEZING COLD! I felt like a bouncer at a club, the only difference was that I was letting everybody in, that and the lack of loud music, hotties and alcohol…

Mmmm, alcohol… Plenty of that would make this job better.

When on ‘door’ duty you greet people as they enter and exit the store. I felt like I was being slowly integrated back into society, society being the ability to speak to/serve customers. I didn’t care though, lunch was in an hour and being on the door I was technically as far away from the crap factory as I could be whilst still getting paid…

Outside of work, literally 12 feet away from the door is a Christmas Market filled with various wonders and some of the best European edibles available. Yet there I was, stood a stones throw away salivating from the door of the shop.

I felt like a dog with a treat balanced on its nose, desperate yet patient...

Isn’t it funny how the closer you get to your lunch break, the slower time gets? I was about 15 minutes away, yet when I checked 5 minutes later, I swear I had 20 minutes left to wait!

You know your fucked when time bitch-slaps you in the face…

13:00 – 14:00

LUNCH!!! Thank fuck!

Even though the Xmas Market was in fact five steps away from the shop, because of the moronic ideology of ‘higher paid – lower brained’ employee’s it took me ten minutes to get there.

You can’t leave the store through the main doors. This is apparently to maintain the illusion of luxury but I can’t take that seriously coming from a company who’s pretentious enough to call the shop floor a ‘stage’. Damn, what a bunch of wankers…

You basically have to walk upstairs three stories just to grab your jacket and wallet etc, then exit via the back, down an elevator to the basement, walk through a loading bay, then around the shopping centre to where the market is. In a word, FLAME!! That stands for ‘fucking lame’ in case anyone doesn’t know.

I bought a spicy sausage from the German section of the market and that simple yet delicious phallic shaped chunk of meat was truly the best part of the day, and at least filled me up for what was to come…

14:00 - 15:00

I was mighty full after lunch, and quickly became mighty bored...

There genuinely wasn't a customer in the shop for half an hour, so, in order to stay awake I started writing down random thoughts onto post-it notes, such as:

I really like chocolate brownies, but I really hate customers. So I was thinking, if a customer gave me a chocolate brownie, would I start to hate brownies, or start to like customers? Neither, or both?

Random right? Eventually someone did enter the shop and for some reason, tried on a pair of shoes and wanted my opinion. Honestly, why do people ask me "How do I look?" Do people think a compliment will squeeze its way past my permanent scowl? "Do these boots look OK?" NO THEY FUCKING DON'T! Save yourself £200 and chop your feet off preventing you asking stupid questions about foot fashion to people who would rather pour acid in their ears then listen to your incessant whining...

If only I'd actually said that. I think I replied with "They look lovely Madam."

I should have said that though. I was supposed to finish work at 19:00 but little did I know I would be leaving the company in just over an hour...

OOpus