I believe I may have joined the ranks of the wage slaves today. It all depends upon the results of my drug test (thank heavens I didn't do that hit of Ectasy last month!) In short, I think I'm going to be a cashier at the grand and glorious Wal-Mart!
How did this happen, you ask? And more importantly, WHAT THE FUCK?
This all begins one month and one day ago, when I drove home in my brand new coche. A few minutes quality time with Microsoft Excel later that night made me realize that the funds I was accustomed to spending like water in the pursuit of the good life would now have to be redirected to the good folks at DaimlerChrysler Financial for the next 66 months. In short, the IN-GO and the OUT-GO were waging a war, and the OUT-GO was about to have a Waterloo moment.
I wanted to be a GAP girl, so I applied at two new mall stores, AeroPostale and Hollinger, but struck out there, probably because my cheekbones aren't high enough and no one is going to grate cheese on my abs any time soon. I tried to find freelance work, but didn't have much luck. And the some other gigs only bring in a few ducats a month, just enough to have a good meal on. So, I swallowed my pride and filled out a Wal-Mart application last week.
They called Friday and wanted to interview me. I really didn't want to be a checkout girl, but because I told them I HAVE to be off in December when my regularly scheduled vacation/homecoming is going to be happening, that's what I'll be. I've been promised a transition to the customer service desk and/or layaway desk come January. And I'm not even going to be making $9 an hour! Still, it is more than I'm making sitting on my ass watching TV.
No, I'm not crazy. I really do need the money. Unless someone out there is willing to subsidize my foreign TV addiction and/or pay me for being smart, this is what I've got to do. Beside, I figure working the checkout line at Wal-Mart will be comparable to working the visa window in the Foreign Service. Cheap goods vs. American visas - sounds like a comparison of equals to me.
And the entire world will get to live my exploits as queen bee of the Wal-Mart checkout line! I can't wait until some heifer tries to go to town on me! Bitch, my name is PRINCESS. Thou wilt respect thy betters!
Anyway. That's what I've doing. I kind of didn't want to spill the beans until it was a sure thing, so I didn't build it up internally in case of a letdown.