Date day :) @davidayuso1
Date day :) @davidayuso1
is my guilty media pleasure right now…. oh man. It makes me laugh all the time.
It’s interesting, the kind of people you meet in the workplace. All sorts of ages, shapes, sizes and colors, some with funny accents and some with funny clothes. You memorize their names and faces soon enough, and learn to carry on conversation. But where does it go?
I’ve been working at JCPenney for about a month and a half now, and so far, I kind of like it. I have run into so many colorful personalities that amuse me. This is primarily due to all of my first impressions of my coworkers contrasted with who I understand them to be today. Being an amateur sociologist/psychologist/anthropologist/I-just-really-like-studying-people-ist, I’ve got them all pretty much pegged by now. Having them pegged limits my ability to understand their lives, though, and I scratch my head, stumped at how to break to invisible wall between work and real life.
I work with a lot of Hispanics, which cracks me up because I am finally the minority. When I first started working, the clique of fluent Spanish-speaking young ladies flocked together like flamingos, talking fast, laughing loud and eyeing the new girl (me). It made me laugh but also set me on edge because…well, I like to be liked. And I most definitely do not like being treated like an outcast. Because of course I am worthy of their friendship and respect! I am at university student and a Christian and in a serious relationship headed towards marriage. I’ve earned the respect of my peers! …. Yeah, I know. Don’t say it. Moving on.
Noelia trained me on my first day at the register, a Spanish girl in her late 20’s with a thick accent and a snappy work ethic. She called me “Sweetie” too much and it made me grind my teeth. I decided that I didn’t like her attitude, until I heard her call everyone of all ages and skin tones “Sweetie.” And by the time I noticed that she smiled brightly and waved hello to me every morning, I decided that she reminded me of a Spanish version of my peppy Aunt Vicky, and began to like her.
Cristen was my first friend…. the only other pale-face in the women’s department. She was off-beat and always bitter, yet very smart and in a committed relationship of two+ years. Always in Chucks, always in black, always laughing at things she shouldn’t laugh at, always cussing about the girls our age that “didn’t do their ‘effing’ work.” She quit the day after our first and only lunch together. Sad to see her give up in all of her frustration, but I don’t miss the complaining.
I located another pale-face named Sierra until I admitted to myself that although she classified as Caucasian, she certainly wasn’t white. But she had a normal accent and looked familiar. I had hopes for bonding until she swapped her average all-American look for a butterfly shirt with gaping sleeve-holes that showed her black bra, a pencil skirt that rode all the way up under her butt, and five-inch heels. I complimented her excellently-applied silver eye makeup, but wondered how she could move without something vital popping out. I could almost swallow her attire until she started off on a rant about how management told her that her skirt was too short, but she didn’t effing care. And she drops the F-bomb for no reason at all, like me looking for a Z-bar. I think she’s pretty funny, but the cussing really isolated me… go figure.
Gabby, a smiling, bubbly girl who speaks fluent Spanish 75% of the time and has an adorable laugh called me “Sweetie” the first night I worked. I hated her for about four weeks until she introduced herself and asked my name so that she wouldn’t call me Sweetie anymore. Since then, she purposefully stands in my way, pages me on the intercom, and demands things of me and then laughs. I take it as permission to be friends, and I’ll accept her bossy humor. “Sorry for b*tching, but you’re still in my heart!”
Lindsey and I get along really nicely. She’s a prettier, blacker version of Janet Jackson with a weave down to her knees, a flashing smile and an impeccably bright style. She seemed quiet and bored when I first met her. But as she showed me how to close all the registers one night, her willingness to help me without being told to by a lead was really reassuring. Since then, we talk and joke easily. Yesterday, she shot me with the scanner across the sports section. To me, that’s a sure sign of comradery.
Amanda, another Hispanic girl with thick curly hair and a nice smile seemed very low-key and no-nonsense at first. She didn’t go with the clique as much, and when we began recovering together, I was excited for some company. But I listened to her ridiculous stories of her friends and family. Letting a car thief friend drive her car, sneaking out to pick up friends out of town for a free tank of gas, hiding things from her crazy mom, liking a guy that lied to her, refusing to look for anything serious…. it made me roll my eyes. But I laugh at the fact that she admits to all of her drama.
Rosemary is older, perhaps in her late 60’s. I saw her smoking, which explains the deep scratchy voice. She’s short and thin and never smiles, her eyebrows perpetually pointed down and inward. She reminds me of the sick lady from Pollyanna, except Rosemary is always ALWAYS moving and knows how to do everything. Her sarcasm amuses me, always quick to identify ugly pieces of clothing and roll her eyes at annoying customers. She’s a refreshing character, although I wonder what her life consists of to make her so stiff and unsmiling.
The new-hire Karen, a substitute teacher in her mid-50’s with short-cropped blonde hair and shocking blue eyes, struck me at first as a mild-mannered, polite family woman. Her warm smile and meekness when it came to not knowing things about JCP made me dare to guess she might be a Christian. But while recovering one night, I found her to be very overtly feminist. “No kids and proud of it!” Not that there’s anything wrong with not having kids, but I found it surprising that she was so happy that she didn’t have any. She also was very quick to talk behind the other ladies’ backs. I got the sense that she was trying very hard to fit in, in her own special older way, to the crowd of independent working women in our store. Although I don’t mind it, I quickly noted that she was not a leader. At least, not here.
Allison is at least in her 50’s. Almost 6 feet tall (at least in heels…) and a bright yellow blonde, she reminds me of Barbie in her older age. She laughs as if Cruella de Ville turned all pink and blonde and bubbles. Obviously, she looks and acts too young for her age (which she openly admitted to today, haha), but what kills me is how her language never caught up. I complained about my sore feet and she made a joke about how “the dogs are barkin’!” …
I believe that Leah is there solely for the purpose of increasing JCP’s revenue all by herself. She addresses every customer with a well-rehearsed monologue highlighting our credit line, our sales, our policies and our online store. She gets credit apps all the time because she is so persistent and persuasive, harnessing the power of small-talk to get what she wants. She asks me a lot of mundane questions as well. It makes me feel as if every question she asks to us is an underhanded way to receive some sort of critical information from us. Like how she always wants to switch because she doesn’t like to work nights.
Then there’s Annelle. She seemed much younger the first time I saw her, short, smiling with dark brown eyes. She watched me from the latina clique the first night I worked. She looked as if she were analyzing me, and I figured she decided I was weird. But she’s gradually became more and more friendly towards me, and I’ve naturally returned the sentiment. Since we breaked at the same time today, we got lunch together. Within an hour, I’d learned enough about her to build a friendship. She was happy not to be alone for lunch today. I asked God to help me build a bridge there and bring her close to Him. We’ll see what he does with that.
But I’m wondering if this is the extent of what I’ll learn about my coworkers. As I said, work puts a wall in between public and private life, drawing a very distinct line that I’m not sure I am capable of crossing. At least, not with everybody.
But how is it that so many intricate and unique lives could intersect under one roof at all different ages, and we can’t even enjoy it? All of our conversations go no deeper than what a mess our store is and what days we have off.
I want to transform my job and the people in it. But that’s God’s job. Maybe he’ll use me? I don’t know. But I’m dying for a deeper relationship with all of them. Maybe then I’ll really get to know them.
Smiling under a ridiculous cloud of blessings that’s hanging over my head. God is so good.
Can I have one…
Just another reason for me to stick with the Good Will.
Glad I’ve never stepped in this store. Ew.
and people wonder why I have abandoned chain stores.
Tumblr is my safe world where I am forever sixteen and uncorrupted by disappointment and adulthood. That’s why I still keep it, even though I don’t use it much anymore. Sometimes, I just need a half hour to think like myself, by myself.
This post has been featured on a 1000notes.com blog.
Got a friend’s wedding tomorrow. Super stoked, because these people are awesome and it’s going to be a phenomenal party! And I finally get to attend a wedding with a date :) Problem is… I can’t find a dress.
I spent four hours scavenging through the mall and found nothing. I made an impulse buy at Ross on a pretty dress, but it’s slightly too big and it doesn’t entirely look like me… I resume my search today.
Last night though, it occurred to me that I own fifteen dresses, but somehow none of them will work for me tomorrow. That’s the American mindset…. I apologized to God for my excessiveness…. and then asked Him to help me find a better dress. Hahah. Maybe my plan will be fruitful today. If not? …. Then I suppose I’ll be okay with a dress I already have… :)
UGHHH I WANT A DRESSSSS