Even in the 80‘s, Mike Reno knew that looking forward to the weekend was what it was all about. On social networks like Facebook and Twitter today, it seems just about everybody is looking forward to the weekend. Comments like: “Jessica can’t wait for the weekend!”, “Arthur is TGIF” or “Drew is counting down to Friday to get out of this hellhole for two whole days.” are everywhere. You bump into someone you know, ask them how they are and get an answer like “Well, it’s Tuesday.” with a roll of the eyes and a knowing laugh. Uhm, yeah, I asked how you were, not what day it is.
Retail works a little differently than the ordinary office job however. In retail, it’s highly unlikely you are looking forward to the weekend. Why? Because weekends are hell on earth in retail. Hoards of people cram in, destroy displays, and get all bitchy with you because it’s hot and crowded and obviously it must be your fault that all these other people decided to come in at exactly the same time they did.
You think it sucks to shop it? Try working it.
There is nothing worse in retail than working weekends. Well, ok, I guess it’s worse when someone takes a crap in your fitting rooms, but besides that…
I’m fortunate enough that I don’t get a lot of a Saturday shifts. In return I work almost every Sunday. Sunday’s are only marginally better than Saturday’s. You don’t have to start until 11am, and it doesn’t really get too busy until around 1pm. That’s when people get out of church, have had their lunch and come to practice all the godly lessons they just learned by treating you like something stuck on the bottom of their shoe.
I guess the sermon about slovenliness is what provokes them to dump the clothes on the fitting room floor. Or maybe it was the sermon about kindness that prompted the crusty old man to come after me (when I was actually on my way to the washroom for a much needed pee break), finger wagging, and chastise me for not smiling enough. Are you kidding me, old man?
Sunday’s are the only days I don’t look forward to going into work. I don’t dread it like I did every day of my old office job, but I don’t relish the thought of being run ragged, with very few thank you’s, all for minimum wage. It’s probably the only day of the week that I wish away. But I wouldn’t trade it to go back to a week of wishing away every day from Monday to Friday. And to those, albeit few, people who give me that look of pity as I hang up yet another eight dresses that some teenaged girl’s mother told her it was okay to throw in a crumpled heap on the fitting room floor, I say; ‘It’s ok.’ Because tomorrow morning, while you’re slamming your snooze button and groaning that it’s Monday, I’m getting out of bed, making lunches, sending everyone off to school and work, and then sitting down at my computer to savour every moment of doing what I love. And when I look at the clock and see it’s time to pick up the kids from school, I say to myself ‘Where did that day go?’.