Tag Archives: long hours

How I Know

You-are-never-too-old-to-set-another-goal-or-to-dream-a-new-dream

…Unless you want to work in retail

I told you in my post the other day that I took a job in retail.  I applied for, and landed a job in a local store whose hours are ridiculously long.  Why I didn’t apply for something like a wholesale store, is beyond me.  I am 46.  Working until close to midnight should be a thing of the past.  Maybe eventually, I will start to feel young.  Could this turn out to be a Fountain of Youth?  Possibly.

Here are some reasons how I know I may be too old for My Retail Job:

  1. Some of my co-workers and even some of my up-line could possibly be my children.
  2. When I wake up the day after a late shift, I would swear a Mack truck got a bit off track, drove through the wall of my bedroom and ran directly over my body.  I’m sure I didn’t actually hear it coming because I was in an over-worked-induced coma.
  3. I can’t seem to keep up after a co-worker who is about a foot and a half shorter than I am no matter how fast I walk and/or run.
  4. I have difficulty hoisting myself up to reach the top shelf by standing on the bottom shelf.  I’m pretty sure I’m breaking some kind of code during the attempt anyway.  Hope the Retail Police don’t get me.
  5. It took me 2 weeks to memorize my 8 digit employee number.  Because I suffer from short term memory loss.  Because I am old.
  6. I can’t remember which locker I put my pocketbook in half the time.  Last week, I had to work my code on about a dozen of them before I finally found it.  No, not embarrassing at all.
  7. The thought of me having to carry around a walkie-talkie and possibly speak into it makes me want my mommy.  Then, well, I need to grow up.  Maybe my fountain is starting to work?
  8. I couldn’t figure out what that thing is on my nightstand that was making a heinous sound and waking me up.  After I realized it was my alarm clock, I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off.  Even though I’ve had it for 17 years.  Again, over-worked-induced coma.
  9. When I sneezed last week, I peed my pants.  I peed my pants at work.  Not an easy feat to try and cover up.  I know this can and does happen anywhere and anytime, but I had to get a Pee story in here somehow.

Even though I feel like I am past my peak for holding this position at this retail establishment, I am enjoying it.  Really.  And The Fountain of Youth theory?  What’s the matter?  It COULD happen.