I do not have much of a head for alcohol, but Lord, I do love me some Bailey's Irish Cream and Penzey's Hot Chocolate mix. Just sayin. Make it all up with a little soymilk, bit of vanilla bean and a cinnamon stick and you're right smack dab in your happy place. Tomorrow I am going to read this and think, "Holy shit. Mental note. Do not blog whilst drinking." but in the meantime, what the hey.
Yesterday was an exciting day at work for me. We had a visit from our corporate manager. Now, he's a nice guy and normally I like him. But this is the holidays and I do not like anyone, much, right now. Yesterday, he drove me a mite crazy. Like, really. I got a little bit mental and OCD on his ass. Y'all are going to laugh at me for this one, but, I am very definitely a little OCD. There are certain ways that certain things MUST be done and if they are not done that way, I get anxious. And he was doing things wrong. I mean, I'm sure they were fine, but they were just wrong according to me. So here I am, anxiously following Mr. Corporate around the store, politely tapping him on the shoulder every few minutes and saying, "I'm sorry, but that's just wrong." and fixing what he was doing. And then there was the gift wrapping. Do not get me started on the gift wrapping. There is a certain way to gift wrap and all other ways are wrong. HIS way was wrong. I don't know how amused he was to be informed of this. I honestly don't know what I was thinking, except, "OMGWRONG." and I was in the middle of gift wrapping 8 verbena candles when he got all helpful on me and then this whole smackdown came down about the wrapping.
Mr. Corporate Manager does not know I am teh crazy but I think he may be starting to figure it out.
I also cut my thumb with a box cutter. Twice. Because I stuck it in the pocket of my apron and the blade wasn't secure and it slipped and I cut myself. Did I mention, TWICE? Before deciding that maybe I should take the box cutter out of my apron pocket? I am, apparently, immune to operant conditioning. If this were a lab and I were a rat, I'd be getting all manner of shocks in my quest for the cheese. It's like fish flakes and the little plastic castle. "Oh, box cutter *stab* ow!." ..... la la la la la.... "Oh, box cutter *stab* OW." ... la la la la la.... "Oh.... wait.... box cutter. Where have I seen this before? Do you have a bandaid? Perhaps, two? Would you mind fetching them while I ponder the completely unrelated mysteries of Box Cutter In My Pocket and Why Am I Bleeding?"
Also dropped a new roll of cello on my head and then almost hit a customer with it (accidentally) but won my saving throw and instead knocked all our lotion testers off the counter. By dropping a roll of cello on them. While I was down on the floor picking those up, I whacked my head on the corner of the counter. Then, I kicked the trash over (accidentally), tripped over it as I was walking to the counter with 8 jars of honey precariously stacked in my arms BUT IT WAS OKAY. I did not drop any of the honey. Knocked the keyboard off the cash desk, lost the magic money pen, scratched myself with the tape gun and knocked plastic olives onto the ground, yes. But I didn't drop any honey.
Later, I made the Baby Jesus cry. And broke the internet.
Ok, those last two are total hyperbole. But the rest of it? All true. My day was lame. The very best part was when I drove home and made myself the aforementioned hot cocoa, handed the children my credit card and told them to order Thai and went to bed with the kittens and my new electric blanket.
"Mama is going to bed with a toddy, children. You're on your own."
Such is the life of a holiday retail person.