The secret life of a sales assistant.

Oh, dear, god. Life has never been this hard before.
Ok, I'm more like this:

But because that photo looks fucking disgusting, I don't want it to be at the very top.
It was my second day working at the store today. I'll tell you which store it is on skype. But my legs, my spine, and my head hurts like a motherfucking bitch. I stood there for 5 hours sraight, occasionally helping customers hang the clothes they don't want. There's not many customers on weekdays. Then I go for a one hour lunch break, or dinner, depending if I'm doing the morning or afternoon shift. Then I continue to stand for 3 hours until I go home. It's horrible. But it's the best job for someone like me who doesn't even have a single qualification, it pays well too. And the worst part is that the more I stay in the store, the more I forget about my real life, which is in my school. Even seeing a teacher comforts me knowing that I'm still young and I'm still in school, and this is NOT my real job. THANK THE LORD.

And did you know you could get traumatized by this sort of job? Whenever I hear the sound of hangers scraping across the pole stick thing, whenever I see hooks that resemble the image of a hook, whenever I hear music, whenever I'm in a cold room, whenever I see clothes, I lose it. When I see so many people wearing clothes I get really scared thinking I'll have to hang all of those up and I'd have to remind myself I'm not at work. IT'S HORRIBLE. And I've also lost my English skills, I can tell that my English sucks like shit right now, and I can't even phrase together the things I actually want to say. Instead I have to substitute it with something else which doesn't exactly convey what's in my mind.

My dad's watching the Tennis France Open, and boy does that sarah-pova girl know how to moan in Tennis. *smacks the ball* 'UGHHHHHHH!' *smacks the ball* 'UGHHHHHH!' and her opponent's just completely quiet hahaha. I have this major headache right now and I need to go to bed but I don't want to because it's only 9:45. Who the hell gets sleepy at that time? This job has completely sucked every last bit of energy out of me. I have so much to say, but according to the speed my brain is working at the moment, I should have about 5 minutes left so I'm just going to say how NICE the clothes are in that store, and it really just kills me seeing all these women try on nice beautiful things and all I can do is stand and watch and clean up the mess they make. I feel so inferior as the sales assistant, I want to be the fucking customer. You know I haven't even shopped the whole store yet? I don't think I'm ever returning to that store after the job. Oh shit my brain's about to explode. I've already planned everything, the store has a mega sale soon, and I'm going to do a morning shift so I can shop after my shift ends at 7PM. You know I get 40% off for being a part time worker?

The most ridiculous part about this job: I have to watch mothers buy their little kids that are 3 months to 2 years old, DESIGNER, clothes, that are about 100RM ++ that's not even bigger than my face. PFTTTT. PFTTTTT!!! They grow out of it in less than 3 months. Then they buy more designer baby clothes. Speechless.

Oh and, god damn, the music played in the store repeats everyday. But at least, the playlist lasts a day, unlike some stores that repeat every hour which even kills my ears as the customer.

Some customers are nice, some aren't so much, some I want to murder, some makes me feel all warm and gooey, especially when they hang everything properly for me. Unlike some girls, who don't even take out all their clothes and throw their hangers everywhere. I swear, being a sales assistant is so fucking OCD. You basically just make everything look neat, make the clothes on the stacks all equidistant, make sure all the buttons and zips are done, and make sure the hanger is facing the right side because the logo is only on one side. It trains you to be the most fucking OCD person in the world, which explains why I am completely traumatized.

They say that the first few days you get really tired, then you fall sick, then afterwards you won't feel anything at all and everything will be alright again. Good to know I'll fall sick.

Today, there was this lady who came in, made a sales assistant carry all the clothes she wanted to try on, then went into the fitting room to change, then went out to carry more, then came back to the fitting room, and so on.
She got so many clothes we had to get her a pole thingy migigy what's it called? I'll show you a picture:

Yeah, she got about 30 pieces. The little green monster in me wanted to jump out and murder her. But turns out, these were all fucking sponsored clothes, that means after she films her movie, she's going to return all the clothes unharmed and we're going to continue to sell them. I felt like such a slave helping her retrieve and hang all her fucking clothes. You know how big a mess she made? Piles of fabric and hangers everywhere, on the floor on the handle, on the little table in the small cubicle. SHE DIDN'T PAY FOR ANYTHING, pissed me off. I'm glad I'm doing this, it'll make me want to work harder in my studies, it's like I'm teaching myself a lesson. Never, am I fucking serving people again after this job.

CUSTOMER FOR LIFE BIATCHES.

God all the stories that I could tell but my head can only handle this much, I'm off to bed. Nights.

LOVE

fuckedupworkingtermite♥♥,