Good ol’ Queer Geek finally got a job! A low paying one but you got to find work where you can get it! So after almost a month of being unemployed after leaving the Big Fancy, I got hired at a city gift shop that caters to tourists.
Now just to give you a hint of how different this place is to The Big Fancy is the casual way they do things. I mean the dress code is so relaxed that I can show up to work in a t-shirt and shorts just like that guy did in the movie Office Space.
No more suits and ties for me. I can come in pair of jeans and V-neck tee and feel comfortable. Oh and not only that. We sell silly novelty items like Reefer inspired tees and weed sculpted tchotchkes. Yes folks it’s that casual. Want further proof?
On my first day of training, I literally had a supervising manager call out an employee in front of me and refer to her as a bitch! Immediately in my head, I’m thinking: Am I on the Twilight Zone? Where’s Rod Serling?
Anyway, things are going good right now. The only downside of this job is the pay. Compared to what I was making at the Big Fancy, I am currently looking for a second job to supplement an income. Oh well, at least I’m surviving!
Ironically, a couple of my coworkers use to be inmates of the Big Fancy and they confided in me that they couldn’t get rehired if their life depended it. Same here. When I tried to apply to Big Fancy’s discount store, they wouldn’t take me because for one I made too much money and two, I was overqualified. Go figure.
So here I am at the city gift shop. The work is easy. Sell to custys, ring them up, stock the store, and watch out for shoplifters. No biggie. What’s also awesome is that we’re situated in a tourist area of the city where there’s some amazing pubs, clubs, restaurants, and boutiques which caters to a wide variety of the metropolitan demographic. I scored big with this one.
Now it’s not all fun and games. There a few doozies. Mainly the fact that this is the go-to place that it attracts a few interesting people. One particular bunch is due to a high end hotel hosting their weekend rooftop party, interestingly titled Rehab. Let me break it down for you. Rehab is this ridiculous overpriced venue where dumbass clubgoers go in the middle of day to dance and drink and act like total idiots. This is fine until the party stops and then the parade of lushes begins and spills into my workplace.
Just to give you an idea. The dress code is always beach themed so everyone has to show up with their bathing suits and parade around naked throughout the city streets. This would be fine if the majority of the patrons ACTUALLY had bodies to be impressed by. Word of advice to all you full figure gals, itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikinis are not your friend! Some people do not look good with tattoos and for all you fellas with a beer guts: KEEP THE SHIRT ON!
Oh and you know it’s a party until you have a group of cops, the paramedics, and the fire department surrounding the venue. Yes, people this is my typical day on the job! Anyway, I recently had one drunken fool come in and nearly made me want call Dr. Drew for Celebrity Rehab.
Drunk ass fool comes in and it’s already noon and you can tell he’s high on his spirits. Apparently he is going to Rehab and goes over to buy a pair of shorts. (Rehab has a beach dress code that guys have to wear shorts.) First he complains about the price of boardshorts which are designer (we only sell surfer and skater style clothing) before grabbing the most affordable pair he could find.
“Fifty bucks for shorts! That’s highway robbery!” He gripes to me.
*In my head, I’m thinking.* Dude, you’re paying an arm and a leg to get into Rehab plus more money on drinks and bottle service. What are you complaining about?
Drunk ass fool goes to the register to pay and ask if he could change his pants. We tell him sure once we finish ringing him up. Then Drunk Ass does the unthinkable. He drops trou right in front of me and right in front of a sweet, nice, conservative Indian family whose eighty year old grandmother shields her eyes in embarrassment.
“OH LORD! DON’T FREE WILLY! DON’T FREE WILLY! KEEP WILLY BACK AT THE WATER PARK!” I exclaim.
“Relax…,” he slurs his words. “I got boxers on.” He pays for the shorts and goes into the changing room to change then leaves.
I don’t know whether to laugh or be appalled.
Anyway, how’s your day?