Discussion
Ah, fuck. Just remembered tomorrow is day one of SIX at my retail job.
All for $17 fucking dollars an hour.
I suppose it could be worse; a former co-worker supposedly took a $3/hr pay cut working at a competitor.
A national chain is paying $14 per hour in the year of our flying spaghetti monster two thousand and twenty-six. Wtaf.
Fml..
There are of course exceptions to any of the aforementioned scenarios. Sometimes (not often) I can make it through day four without any major struggles.
There are also times where two hours into the first day I'm promising myself if I don't walk out mid-shift because I'm so inconsolably furious about something, I'm allowed to call out sick the following day so I can recover.
I'm 45 years old and yet I still frequently can't even work more than a couple days at a time before I begin to unravel.
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I can usually handle working retail two days in a row because I can try to convince myself "just one more day and I can take a break from this shitshow called adulthood."
By day three, I'm usually starting to struggle quite a bit. My ability to maintain composure is starting to crack. My stamina starts to wane, as my spoons begin to evaporate faster and faster.
Typically day four is white-knuckle time and is often when what I can only describe as a sort of "brain static" starts to occur. Every little slight, insult or inconvenience just amplifies the brain noise.
Historically, when I break down crying over what is usually fairly trivial offenses whether retail or any other industry, it's usually around day five. My feelings are so delicate and vulnerable by that point, I'm much more likely to fall apart.
Day six.. fuck me. My ability to control my temper is critically low. I hate everyone and everything. I have no spoons left and I just want to sleep for the rest of time.