The holidays are here.I am reminded of my seven-year stint as a sales associate at the Gap. Seven holiday seasons. Seven Black Fridays. Seven days after Christmas. Seven years of cleaning up dressing rooms that were trashed by bitches and assholes and pulling warm crotches out of freshly-tried on jeans and other too-tight pants. (And we never got tips!) Seven years folding a table of fleece hoodies over and over and over and over and over again. Seven years of gift boxes running out on Christmas Eve Eve Eve. Seven years of the same holiday songs, eight hours at a time. Seven years of stinky candles and Gap holiday potpourri. Seven years of answering the phone: "Happy Holidays! Thank you for calling the Gap at ______ _______. How can I help you?" Seven years of cleaning cash/wraps and emptying filthy hangers. Ugh. Seven years of staying until 12:00 a.m. cleaning up after really busy Saturdays. Seven years of puffy coat theivery. Seven years of mastering the denim wall only to have it - you know - destroyed.
But.
Seven years of the best work gossip EVER. Seven years of meeting really wonderful people. Seven years of going out after work. Seven years of really cheap clothes. Seven years of self-exploration. Seven years of fitting women into the exactly right-for-them jeans. Seven years of learning all the folding tricks of the trade. Seven years of dressing windows. Seven years of that stuff was okay with me.
Seven, seven, seven.
I was a Gap girl that effing long.
And now that I'm a couple years out of that scene and the holidays have arrived,
and everything has slowed so far down compared to those holidays,
all I really feel is that I have abandoned ship.
My longest standing holiday tradition is holiday tradition no more. Happy I don't have to do that stuff again, sure.
But kind of lonely for the buzz.
The warm crotches.
And
"Last Christmas I gave you my heart but the very next day you gave it away gave it away but this year to save me from tears I'll give to someone special-ecial" at least six times a day.
I do kind of miss it.
5 comments:
i've been working in my dad's chocolate store every holiday season for as long as i can remember, and i know exactly what you're talking about. down to the horrible muzak. although my most entertaining co-worker, the 60-something ex-stewardess from somewhere crazy, won't be there this year. mixed emotions on that one.
don't you hate it when some group of snotty fuckers comes along and ruins the display you just spent for-fucking-EVER perfecting? i can already feel the liquid hot anger in my veins, and i'm still 200 miles away.
and yes, it's really 3.43 am. and yes, i still have crazy head-floating sensations from my Bohemian Rhapsody injury. bear this all in mind now that you've just read the longest comment in the world. Rock on!
---MB
lzuod- a New York reptile
Seven years of self-exploration.
I wondered what you gilrs did behind the counter.
Geez, I'd be missing that discount, which was all I could think about while I read this post.
Wham!! How funny is that. Or was that George Michael as a solo act.
mmmm. chocolate store?! i would be too tempted to work in a chocolate store. and then i would be too fat.
oh for the love of the food court food.
and i'm not sure if it that was george solo or if it was wham! but either way...you know its a good time.
i didn't imagine my crazy day, i swear! it really happened... i think
and let me tell you, screaming at my teacher is my dream act of rage.
off to Kyle's jazz concert, but have a good day! oh, and he posted, finally.
---MB
vovizogx- the evil creature from Harry Potter that steals socks and makes them into spiders.
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