Soul Survivor

I haven't written here since I moved all of that stoopid stuff here from the other site. I surely need to stop being and writing all over the place, settling in one location so that I can find what I've written, and, perhaps, some consistency.

So much has happened. There is a new grandchild, and, of course, he is beautiful and brilliant and his grandma's opportunity to be as foolish as she wants.

My mother quickly disappointed the hopeful throng that thought her stroke and mellowed her behavior and mind, and she even more quickly reverted back to her usual self. She is physically compromised from the stroke, but has regained all of her intellectual and cognitive faculties. Alas, our delight at the new, kinder and gentler mommy was short lived. Her behavior is as cruel as it ever was and I have had to fly across the country in attempts to save her placements. One was a failure, but three times have been successful in keeping her in her current facility. It is a huge expenditure in time, energy and resources to keep doing this, but she does not want to return to a colder climate, despite not having much in the way of family support where she now is located.

My sibs do their best, but nothing is ever good enough for her. It would be easier to feel some compassion for her if her behavior was a result of the strokes (she had another, milder one a few months ago), but she has always behaved in this manner. Truth be told, she used to be much worse, but her current physical condition limits how truly terrible she can be. I was down there for a few weeks over the holidays, and I was once again struck with how wonderful my sibs are, for the time that they do spend with her. It is a serious and seriously sad job to deal with her.

My heart breaks for the unhappiness that surrounds her. She could have a wonderful life, surrounded by loving family, but she continues to deny this lovely option to herself. Her children tolerate her as best they can, her own sibs and their families avoid her completely. This whole thing with her is just the saddest thing ever.

Despite her parenting, we, the sibs, are a pretty darn remarkable group of people. I have two sibs who did not survive her attentions, so, perhaps, it is the process of surviving that has helped us to become the people we are now.

For me, I am choosing only the things that I love. Family, friends, occupation and work. I am going to begin taking some kind of physical activity, but not pilates or yoga, both of which tried to kill me last year.

I've brought over all the posts that I wanted from my other site. It was difficult to not edit them. It's like any other writing that we do.

Our older work is exactly what it needed to be when we put it down, the right time and place and space. Still, it was tempting to just tweak it a bit, reduce the wordiness; and then I realized that that's just my style and I let it alone; didn't even read while I was bringing the pages over.

I'm beginning to trust that this is a fairly safe place for me to write. To be honest, I can't imagine that anyone would find any of this the teeniest bit interesting, and should someone stumble across this, they will probably just keep on stumbling forward. Yet, it is a place where I can share stuff with people that I trust, without the pressure of face-to-face confessions.

Only time will tell if I remember to return.

This is going to be disjointed, weird, goofy and probably irritating, but it just has to be written.

I have a very complicated family history. We have the usual misunderstandings, grudges, fueds, jealousies fights, quarrels and assorted mayhem. There are multiple marriages, divorces, deaths, affairs, betrayals, blended families, more death, more divorce, estrangements, drama, drama, drama and more. We even managed to get the courts involved on occasion. Just your typical American, dysfunctional family. You know, I've always wondered when people use that term, dysfunctional, because I've yet to meet anyone from a non-dysfunctional family. I suppose that "they" are out there somewhere, but I've never come across one. Even in the best of family situations, I don't suppose that it is ever possible to be everything to everyone and make sure that each person has their basic family needs met, much less those things that our hearts most desire.

We, somehow, managed to have some of the good things about families, too. We mostly love each other We keep reasonable contact; enough so that we're fairly up-to-date about each other's lives, but not so much that we drive one another crazy. That's my mother's job. In fact, that is one of the things that brings us siblings together and keeps us there...our mutual dislike and mistrust of our mother. We don't hate her, well, at least some of us don't right now, but there isn't much love going in either direction where she is concerned. And, she, our mother, doesn't discriminate among her progeny. She is never so happy as when she is causing discomfort, disharmony, discontent and outright pain amongst all of us, children, grandchildren, even her own siblings. One of her best techniques in controlling everthing and everyone was to keep all of us in a continual state of fear and mistrust of one another. Conquer and divide. It is still her favourite tool.

Through the years, we have come to our own terms with her and her behavior. Like anything else, our relationships with her are dynamic, and move, flow to the patterns they must take. We are all, always I hope, just trying to do our best, and honestly, after all these decades, I guess that she is as well.

Her behavior. Well, she comes by it honestly, if such a thing can be. She was mistreated, misused and abused by her family. Sadly, like many injured children, she grew up to carry on her family's legacy of neglect, mistreatment, misuse, shame and abuse of her own children. It was a time when family secrets were well kept, during both her formative years and adulthood. She came from a large family, and had one of her own. As far as I can determine, none of her siblings abused their own children, although one can see other family issues that manifested from those childhoods. As far as I know, only one of my siblings was abusive to their children, a fact that I learned many years later. But, you never know, especially in a family like ours where secrets were the only covenant that was kept and held sacred.

We are scattered all over the country, those so bestowed children of hers, but try, really try to keep in touch and to avoid taking the umbrage in which we were well schooled.

It has been, and continues to be a long and arduous journey, which brings us to the present.

Until a year ago, my mother lived on my side of the country. For reasons best left unadressed, she was moved to the other side of the country by one of my sibs. To be ruefully honest, I was happy to see her go, but sad to know that the sibs that moved her were finally going to experience and understand how difficult it was to have to deal with her on a daily basis. Sadly, that happened, but that's another hundred stories. Last month she had a stroke. For all of the above mentioned reasons, no one in her area wanted much to do with taking care of her affairs; another area best left unadressed, but truth be told, you reap what you sow, and the only person who deserves any lifting of a critical eye is my mother.

Stokes are not cool. Not even a little bit. Even I know that. However.

Well, however, a lot of good has come from this particular stroke. It has brought us sibs, at least the more highly evolved of us (how's that for making judgements), closer together. I had some money saved and am using it to fly over there as often as I can get away from work. I went at the beginning of this month, and will return next month. Our mother really lucked-out and has been in some reasonably decent, as those places go, facilities, with some reasonably caring people. She is making progress and will keep moving on to other facilities as she improves. Which brings me to another benefit of her stroke. She seems to have become a nicer person. We would like to hope that it is a conscious, internal effort on her part, driven by her near-death, but we suspect that it is a factor of the neurological difficulties caused by the stroke. Although, really, who cares. She is easier to be around and that is enough for now.

For the time being, at least, she is no longer the source of so much stress, work and pain to my sibs. It is my most ardent hope that we can continue to become closer and less fractious with one another. I might also hope that there will be time before she eventually dies for some of us to come to some kind of resolution with her, some opportunity to talk to her and address those past issues.

I suspect that such conversations would only be a further cruelty to her, after a life overflowing with the cruelties that she has had to experience and for which she was forced to keep her own counsel. I feel such sadness and pain for what she suffered as a child. It's a different world now, with social services and mandatory reporters that did not exist when she was little, or even when I was a frightened, hurting child.

Perhaps the kindest and most loving legacy that I can offer her is to forgive her in my own, quiet way, without causing her more pain. I think that all of us have suffered enough.

And, truly, it is enough for now.

So much has been happening. The "season" is over and I'm still at the base store. It is going as well as can be expected.

Please don't misunderstand, I'm glad to have the job. The people, employees and customers, are, for the most part quite wonderful. The pay sucks, but that's a simple reality. What's not so simple is how complex the relationships are. Friends, family, co-workers, customers, strangers, it is part of the fabric of our lives. Keeping it from fraying and getting in the way is the hard part. Balance. That's what I'd like.

A good example is how high-maintenance an employee I am. I do the work I'm supposed to do. I have great customer-service skills. I support our company's stupid programs. I'm a caring and supportive co-worker. I come to work on time, don't take long breaks and I stay until my shift ends, sometimes longer if it's busy. I am honest, hardworking, loyal and clean. What I'm not, is easy.

Want another example? I've already confessed that I work in a bookstore. You're not going to get any kind of clue as to what kind it is, so don't ask. One of the things that most people don't know about bookstores is that books, magazines and coffee aren't the only reasons that people come to one. There are a lot, and you'd be surprised at how many a lot really is, who come for other reasons.

They come looking for something to fill a hole that they have gaping inside of them. Often they don't know what they need to fill it. Self-help, religion, grammar, something funny to chase away the blues, something horrible to help put their lives in perspective,even porn (which used to be just the adult magazines, but now includes the section that used to be called "Romance.") I digress, but if you haven't looked at one of those romance books in a while, you will be surprised to find that they are no longer the bodice-rippers of old, but have morphed into some pretty blatant and seriously graphic stuff. There is a woman who shops with us, who complains and nearly rages about the Manga books that her young teenage girls want to read, while buying them books from the Romance section. You know, if she is really, truly concerned about what her girls are reading, she would be at least scanning those books that they have clutched in their sweatly little mitts. Every time she (the mom) does this, I just let her rant, while I watch her daughters' faces. You can tell that they are trying to send their hormonal little thoughts to me, begging me not to give away the big secret. I don't, because the parental raging makes it not my business. I'm guessing that if she ever finds out, given her displays of displeasure, we just won't see them in the store anymore.

Anyway, back to lust. The need and lust that brings so many people to us. I have a very nice manager, but her job is to make sure that we sell lots of books. Oh, sure, she has lots of other jobs, but that is the main one, the one for which she most accountable. The bottom line, the financial stuff. Great, it's her job, and it's probably supposed to be mine, too, but I just can't get behind that. Yeah, I can sell our membership card, tout the latest bestsellers, pass out coupons and flyers, stock, straighten and all the rest.

And, this is where my not being the greatest employee comes in.

What I cannot do (no, correct that...), what I won't do is to take advantage of our customers.

If we don't have the exact book that they want, I'll call our other stores, I'll offer to order it for them, I'll beg, borrow and blunder my way into finding it for them. But, I won't talk them into something that won't meet their needs, just to make a sale.

If they don't know what they want, I will do my best to help them discover what it is that they DO want, but I won't steer them into just anything so that they don't leave without buying something.

If they come in for, say a cookbook, I will help them find the specific book they want, or something similiar, but I won't up-sell them into a more expensive book just because it would be possible to do that.

If they want to buy a paperback novel, and we have the hardcover in the remainders (bargain books) section for a few dollars less, I will show it to them and let them make their own decision.

There are a lot more things that I won't do, things that my company wants, even insists, that I do because it will bring in more revenue at the expense of what is right and proper for our customers.

Aside from all of those 'regular' customers, we seem to attract a lot of people who really don't need a book. They need to connect with another human being for some subtle, significant or even foolish reason. They need to engage in human contact that is not available to them any other way. And, I just love these people. They waste our time, get in the way of helping other people and sometimes, depending upon the disconnect from which they suffer, even cause problems. And, I really just love these people. I believe that these people are the reason that I'm working in a bookstore, in the mall, in the 'belly of the beast' of a mall.

In the six months that I've been working here, there have been dozens and dozens of them, and I'd like to share two of them with you.

One is a man, tall, very tall, nearly seven feet tall. He walks slowly and hunches his shoulders. He rarely looks me in the eye, and speaks so softly that I sometimes have to ask that he repeat something that he has said to me. I was surprised to find that some of the other employees think that he is dangerous, or could be. I find him to be almost fragile. His tentativeness isn't a construct, but a way for him manage his environment. Maybe that means the same thing.

He came into the store last week, asking for a book about bringing people back to life. I asked him if he meant medical resuscitation, but he just shook his head. Knowing that he goes to the library a lot, I asked if he had gone there. He told me that he had, and that the librarian had given him a book, which he checked-out. He pulled the book from his backpack and showed it to me. It was about EMT techniques. He told me that wasn't what he wanted. I asked if he meant resurrection, and, again, he indicated that was wrong. I asked, to make sure, that he didn't want something about the afterlife, perhaps something religious, and he told me that he had enough bibles.

I then found myself at the place where I had to ask the right question, the one that I'd been avoiding. I asked him if he wanted a book that told you how to bring a dead person back to physical life. I've never seen his face as animated as it was at that moment, and he nodded his head and told me "Yes, that's it, that's what I want." I told him that I would look it up for him in the computer. And, I turned, and looked. Not health, not medical, not religious, not mythological, not philosophical, only a way to bring back a person who was gone. Lost. I knew that I wouldn't find anything, but I looked for him anyway. And, I read out titles to him, clicked on links and went through the lists of books on resurrection and resuscitation and ancient ritual. And, when I'd given him as much time as I could, I returned to him and told him that there wasn't anything to be found, and that I was sorry.

He told me that was all right. That he understood. I told him that I would keep looking, and if I found anything, I would order it for him to look at the next time he visited us. He shook my hand and we said our goodbyes.

He is the reason that I came to work that day. I like all the other people, but he is one of the reasons that I continue to work there.

There is another man who comes into the store regularly, but I think that I'll save his story for another time.

Huh, you know, I came here to write today about my personal life and my mother, but I guess that will have to wait for another day, as well.

Gosh. It's been a long time since I was able to write here. Nearly two months since I made an entry. I have a good reason. My computer died. More properly, it was killed, murdered by the cats. I'm still not sure what happened. When I came home, my keyboard was on the floor, along with tons of desk stuff. I don't know if it was a race, a fight, or if the kitties had a party with their friends, that got out of control. Of course, the fact that I was stupid enough to leave my computer on whilst out of the house is now beside the point. Since then, while trying to find a way to get the old puter to work, or a way to buy a new one, I have been relying on the kindness of strangers for my online fixes. Actually, it has been family and friends who have been kind enough to let me use their computers, but, honestly, if one's family and friends aren't the strangest people one knows, I don't know who is. The only stumbling point is that I'm stuck using Netscape and it won't support MSN's extras. Plain, plain, plain and more plain. Can't really complain, though (pun intended). I have lots of stories about the stores and, now that the season is nearly over, I hope that I will be able to remember them. Well, now that I finally remembered how to get here and how to make an entry, I hope to be back more regularly.

One of the problems with having worked in isolation for the past year, or so, it that there wasn't much regular contact with other people. Sure, I saw the occasional friend and the odd family member, and I do try to make it to the regular Saturday morning coffee get-togethers, but that is not the same as daily contact with people who don't have fur and four legs. Spending so much time alone makes me feel, well, a little weird, and that I'm stranger than most other people.

Now that I'm back in the mall, there is ample opportunity to interact with, or observe, lots of people who do not belong to the aforementioned groups. And, being back among a lot of seriously strange people has made me feel so much better about my own peculiarities. A lot better.

• 
  I am loving the children that are in the stores and the mall areas. It brings back so many wonderful memories of when my children were young. So, now I get to enjoy the little ones that come to shop with their parents, and since I'm so close to Santa, I am able to see lots and lots of them. Very cool part of this job.
• A woman came in wanting children's books in languages other than English. She wasn't sure what titles or languages she wanted, which made it a little difficult to help her. She also wanted me to find a spinner rack for her, the kind that holds small books. We like to give our customers the best service possible, but, come on, you have to give us something to work with. I spent part of my day off doing some research for her. I hope that she appreciates it.
  
• A man came in, holding a Styrofoam box, loaded with enchiladas, beans, rice and chips. He made his way through the store, leaving greasy fingerprints all over the place. I followed as best I could, discretely cleaning up after him. He was later joined by an older woman, who bought a calendar. As I took care of her, her companion put his messy plate on the counter. I kept silent, but it wasn't easy. After the transaction was completed, they both started to walk away. I called after the man, telling him that his food was still here, and he called back that it was fine, he was finished with it. The people waiting in line and I had a chuckle over it as I put the plate on the floor and wiped the counter. I still can't figure out where the heck, in the mall, he got that box of food.
• I'm not a prude. Honest. I'm really not. Still, I have a problem with some of the adult-themed calendars we are selling this season. One of the models is an adult, but very, very young looking athlete. Somehow, that just doesn't seem right. OK, maybe I am a prude. You can always tell when a man is coming in to look at these calendars. Go ahead, stop to look at the puppies and the sports cars, we all know why you're here. Actually, it is kind of amusing, and I really don't mind. What I do mind is when some of them start to touch themselves. Eeeeeewwwwwww! One man kept zipping in and out of the store last week. Grabbing one of these calendars, looking intently at it and zipping right out again. I didn't intend the zipping to be a pun, but I guess it is. After doing this several times, he zipped in again and said "How much are you going to gouge me for this calendar?" I followed him to the section and took the calendar from the rack and told & showed him the price. He started to talk about all the pretty ladies and I didn't stay around for the rest, just went back to the front of the store, hoping for another customer to take up my time. He made a couple more attempts at conversation, and just before I asked him to leave, he finally saw the look on my face and zipped right out again. A co-worker told me about her customer that keeps coming back to ask for the male calendars with the younger boys. I hope that he shows up when I'm working so that I can call mall security. The bookstore sells adult magazines and apparently there is a regular contingent of men that come in on Sundays and generally gross out the female staff. They are called the Sunday People. I thought personal computers and the Internet were supposed to take care of this sort of thing, keeping these guys out of the mall.
• Another nice thing is that there is an older man who is at one of the kiosks near my store. He sells and repairs jewelry and watches. He also makes gold jewelry, chains, pendants and rings. I hear that he has been in the mall for a year, and he must be doing very well, by the number of people who stop by. It is very pleasant to hear the whir of his polisher and the tink-tink-tink of his hammer as he shapes the gold into little works of art. I wonder if the mall appreciates having this artisan here. I don't buy many gifts, preferring to make them, but I know that I won't be able to resist purchasing some of his little treasures.
• There is a tiny woman who walks in the mall most days. One day, as she was passing my storefront, she saw me dusting the shelves and she started laughing while she walked inside. She said something about how she never considered that calendars might need dusting, but apparently they did, because there I was, dusting them. It didn't take long to realize that she just wanted someone with whom she could talk for a while. There weren't any people in my store, so I dusted, and she talked for some time. In ten minutes, she told me nearly her entire life story. Then she turned and rushed out when another person came in. I haven't seen her since, but hope she wanders in again to pass the time.
• A woman and her son came in looking for a dinosaur calendar. They already had the one we carry, and the little boy told me so much about it that he must have already memorized every word and picture on it. I promised to watch for a different one for him. It still makes me smile at how excited he was about raptors. I want that kind of enthusiasm about the world, or, even just a little piece of it. To him it came naturally. For me, well, I'm just going to have to work on that. But, I'm feeling pretty darn optimistic.

It's the wise woman who knows herself, and I hate ending with a gripe, but...

On a more personal note, I have felt that I, physically, may be doomed. My usual postures are sitting at this desk or my work table, or standing a bit at the easel. All the running around at the stores is something that I anticipated, but for which I was not prepared. I need good shoes and socks. Or new feet. On Saturday, I finally gave up and removed my shoes. My feet hurt so much that even a ton of ibuprofen wasn't helping. I was off on Sunday and recovered a bit, but today was horrible again. It's just a darn shame that I've let myself become so out of shape. I have a new admiration for my co-workers and the way some of them are able to maintain such a frantic pace.

I'm also wondering how I have stayed so young on the inside, but still managed to get so old on the outside.

I am one lucky girl. No doubt about it. The Universe is smiling down on me, and I am basking in the wonder of it all.

Today, I had a mystical experience. Shortly after the mall opened for business, I heard a faint jingling of silvery bells that seemed to be coming closer. I turned and saw the Santa Procession. It was cute. Really cute. Santa, accompanied by his elf and helpers were coming towards me. As Santa approached, I enthusiastically waved and said "Hi, Santa!!!!" This is my usual greeting to the old fella, and today was no exception.

The one exception is that this is one delightful Santa. After I greeted him, he said "Hi" back and then asked me how I was today. I said that I was fine, and asked how he was. He said that he was fine, and then words came out of my mouth that I had never, ever spoken to another living being. As he came right up to me, I said, and I still can't believe it, "Santa, you sure are looking good today." He smiled and laughed and kept on walking past me.

I was stunned. Had I really said that to him? Yes. I did.

Don't get me wrong. I wasn't coming on to the old guy. I just couldn't help myself. He was, is, adorable. He is the absolutely perfect Santa. Everything you ever wanted him to be. And, there he was, in his Santa glory. Amazing.

Now, I don't know where I've been for the past couple of weeks that I've been working here in the belly of the beast, but his castle is right next to my store. Sort of. If I step out into the mall common area, there he is, right next to the weird kiosk guy.

Rosy cheeks. Fluffy, white beard. Velvety red and white suit. Twinkling eyes and loving smile. Belly like a bowl full of jelly. He is the whole package. If there is anyone who does not believe in Santa, well let me assure you, he is alive and well and making the world a better and jolly-er place. My faith in a kind and loving Universe has been bolstered and supported by the presence of this little guy in the red suit.

Today, despite being a Wednesday, was surprisingly and delightfully busy. I had plenty of customers and did almost three times the business that we usually do midweek. Yet, I found opportunities to wander closer to Santa and watch him spend time with all kinds of people.

He was so wonderful with the littlest, most wary children. He was patient and kind and supportive of the ones that were too frightened to approach him, talking gently to them from a distance and making them feel comfortable and safe. One little boy would not, despite his mother's insistence, approach Santa. The big guy just talked softly to him, asking him questions and really listening to the little boy's replies. All of a sudden, the boy ran to Santa and put out his arms to be picked up and happily settled himself onto Santa's lap, where he chattered away. I'm sure that I'm not the only person with teary eyes.

He was happy and jolly with the kids that couldn't wait to sit on his lap, and didn't, despite the line that often formed, rush any of the children to move on.

In those crystal moments, time seemed to stand still as Santa had all the time in the world to listen and talk to each of the children. The others, waiting in line, were content to wait their turns, knowing that Santa was waiting just for them, and that time would suspend it's forward movement while they shared their stories with him.

Today I experienced the kind of magic that special because of it's rarity. I look forward to many, many more opportunities to see Santa and watch him weave his spell over child and adult alike. And, over me. Yes, I admit it, unequivocally, without a doubt, I am hot for Santa.

If I can find the extra cash, I'm having my picture taken with him.

'Tis the season to be cranky, Fa La La La La, La La La La!

Three weeks before Thanksgiving, and the mall started playing holiday music. Huh? Granted, I'm less than an expert on malls, visiting them...well hardly ever. Except for when I'm working there, and I didn't take a step into one at all in the past year and a half.

So, it came as a huge surprise when I came to work last week Monday, and heard holiday tunes playing in the mall common areas. Sheesh. Sure, there was the occasional pop song, but HOLIDAY MUSIC???????

Is this a trend or some local aberration? Will they be playing "When Irish eyes are smiling" after New Year's? "Here comes Peter Cottontail" the week after? Where will the madness end?

Complaining about the mall music isn't something new for me. Years and years and years ago, they played Baroque music. Nice. I like Classical music, but the constant Baroque themes wore you down, I tell you, just wore you down! While I never shared this gripe with my friends in the mall office, not that they would have given a rip about my musical tastes, they did change the music that was broadcast.

I think that the change in musical selections had something to do with a change in the management company. Our mall is pretty old, and I'm sure that they, hip managers that they are/were, they knew just what kind of music would draw people to the mall, and keep them there while they spent and spent, doing their part to keep the local economy going. So, they began playing pop music. Most of their selections from that genre were pretty vapid, and easy to ignore. Except for two years ago when they had a limited play list and the songs recycled every fifteen minutes or so.

There quickly came a time when I thought that if I had to listen to Cher sing "Do you believe in love, whatever, whatever..." that I was going to go berserk, run amuck and be generally unpleasant.

This year, my trigger song is probably going to be "Happy Holidays." They must have played that darn song a thousand times yesterday. The only thing that made it bearable and funny is that the guy in the kiosk outside of my store started softly yelling "Holiday" all through the song, and afterwards. It still makes me laugh now. I just hope that I can hang on to my sense of humor for the rest of the season.

Enough griping. There have to be things that aren't all about how this *insert favorite adjective* job is turning out.

Just a reminder...I'm working in a mall store, actually two mall stores owned by the same company, a bookstore and a calendar store.

Some of the more amusing things I've heard in the past week:

"I don't have a job anymore. Now I work for the Lord." No comment.

"Thanksgiving is early this year and that means that Christmas will be late." Umm, aren't there always the same number of days between them?

"I can't shop now, I'll come back when my break is over." Good grief, I'm glad you don't work here.

"Do you have a calendar with Borderline Collies?" Perhaps I could show you the Border Collie ones.

"Sharks, sharks, I want sharks. No, no, the bunnies are mean!" Those killer bunnies will get you every time.

"Not red. Not red. Not red. Not red. Not red. Red!!!!!!!!" This was said by a small boy who was being dragged around the mall by two women with even smaller boys in strollers. I wasn't able to see what he was doing the first several times he said "Not red." I started following him and noticed that he was putting his hand into his pocket, looking at his palm and saying it. Then, the last time, he pulled out a bunch of whatever it was and I could see that his hand was filled with small candies. Those red ones must be amazing, because he was really, really excited.

"Come dear, and let us pray over you." Said by two women and a man who were concerned for my eternal soul because we sell astrology and Harry Potter calendars. Thank you kindly, Ma'am; truth be told, I need all the help I can get!

"Ooooooh, Grandma wants this one, mommy!" Exclaimed by a small girl who grabbed a calendar from the adult section (barely clothed people), which depicted men in scant cowboy gear and folksy settings. It seems that Grandma grew up on a ranch and has shared many sweet stories of her childhood in the West.

"Look at all the Elvis calendars! I told you he was still alive!" Only in our hearts, dear.

That's enough for now.

Like riding a bicycle, working at the store seems to be one of those skills that hold some kind of cellular memory. I am using the cash register without having to concentrate on every movement. There have been some procedural changes since I last worked there, but I'll catch on to them. Eventually. Fortunately, my unfamiliarity with them isn't a problem and, so far, no one has had a fit about any of it.

The only one that may cause me some adjustment is that the mall has abandoned their paper gift certificates in favor of electronic gift cards. Our ancient registers can't handle one of the payment options, but that shouldn't be too much of a hardship for our customers. Let me amend that. Most of our customers will manage just fine, covering their disappointment with false holiday cheer, buoyed by our abject apologies and subsequent groveling for their forgiveness for being such a pathetic, backwards store.

There are, however, going to be problems with the Entitled. Yes, the dreaded Entitled. You know them. They are the people who believe that the Universe revolves around them. They deserve to be first in line, are entitled to special services and should be honored and adored for the amazing and priviledged beings that they are.

These exceptional creatures are the ones that you will hear saying:

"What do you mean you're out of Weeds of East Podunk? You had plenty when I was in here two months ago."
"How long is this going to take?" Usually accompanied by foot tapping and watch adjusting.
"What kind of a store is this, that you won't hold this calendar for me until they go down to $1.00!"
"What do you mean you can't order this by *insert any unreasonable time frame*?"
"My husband made me a calendar holder for my birthday, but it's a little small, so could you cut this one down for me?
"My card was declined? Just put it through, it'll be fine."
"I want this calendar, but need the date spaces a little smaller/larger/narrower/whatever."
"Why don't you have more than six different hamster calendars?"
"I never used this calendar from last year, and I want you to exchange it for this year's."
"What do you mean I need I.D. for my check? Do you know who I am?"

Yeah, I know who you are. The people in line behind you know who you are. Everybody knows exactly who you are. We'd tell you, but you can't use that kind of language in public.

And, heaven forbid that anything go awry, like the register runs out of receipt tape or they have to wait until you open a roll of quarters to give them their change. Help, help, the sky is falling!!!!

As my friend, K, says, "These humans, what a caution. Glad I'm not one of them."

But, all of those people don't matter a bit when you compare them to the majority of customers who understand that everyone is doing their best, no matter on which side of the counter you find yourself. They are pleased when you help them find what they want, or more importantly, what they need, even if they weren't sure exactly what that was. They are pleasantly surprised, when you are unable to supply what they need and refer them to another store that does have what they need. They are appreciative, and often shocked, when you take them to the item that they want, instead of just waving your hand in the general direction and telling them "It's over there." They are relieved when you assure them, while cleaning up the mess, that it's no problem that their toddler dumped a shelf of titles for the third time. They are delighted when you count back their change for them, instead of just tossing the crumbled mess into their hand.

To be honest, I'm back at work because my savings are gone and I need the money, but the main reason that I'm back in the store is the people. I like the people with whom I work, even the lazy and the goofy. I like the customers, even the weird and the rude. Yes, even the worst of them, the angry, harried and cruel, because I know that their problem with me isn't about me or anything that I've done, and it started long before they walked through my doorway. Whatever their bad behavior, I trust that somewhere inside them is a person who, in that moment, is doing the best that they can. There are times when that is a real stretch of faith, but I think that it's worth the effort. I can't solve their personal problems and I don't even want to try. My goal and hope is that they leave their encounter with me at least no worse off than when they came into my store.

It is something that I don't want to be. But, oh, it's so easy to be stubborn and want things my way. I struggle with this issue so much. All the time. It is especially difficult this season, at the store, because it is the first time that I haven't been in charge. Mmmmm...how I love being in charge. I'm the oldest of my sibs, an Aries and I believe that I was born genetically bossy. Since I seem to come by it naturally, and I'm so good at it, why is it so difficult for the rest of the world to get with the program?

One of my best qualities is that I am very organized. Details and problem solving fascinate me. I consider being anal-retentive a gift. I'm only half kidding about that. Even when I settle on a system for something, I continue to try new things and fine tune the beans out of it. Unfortunately, this being organized is also one of my worst, most annoying qualities. I'm at a place where I try to moderate my enthusiasm. Most of the time I'm successful, well, fairly successful, but there are the occasions when my perfectionism still gets in the way. I've been on the schedule for just a few days, and I'm already feeling sorry for the other people with whom I work.

They are all very nice. Most of them are on the youngish side, and while that youthful energy can be a great asset, their collective lack of work ethic has the potential to drive me insane. Learning the stock and solving the problem of my extremely sore feet are taking a back-seat to finding a way to not be bothered by co-workers who do the barest minimum amount of work.

A perfect example was this past week during the shift change. One of the young women came down to take over the store, and while I was telling her what things had been during my time there, she was down the counter, shuffling through the pile of papers that she and several others have so that they can play a number game called Suduko.

They, collectively, are so unconcerned about doing any actual work that they don't even try to hide their time-wasting. One of them brought his laptop to work and played games on it.

Two of them call each other on the phone, one in the store, the other in the kiosk.

Another came down from the base store to relieve me for lunch. (As a side note, we get only one break during the day because the company won't hire enough people to allow for proper, and probably legally required breaks, but that's another story.) She must have thought that I had left the store for lunch, and when I came out of the storeroom to get something, she nearly fainted. There were five customers in the store and she wasn't helping any of them, but was sitting behind the counter, reading a book.

I am the only person who does any cleaning. At this time in the season, housekeeping chores are a welcome diversion, and I'm glad to have things to fill the long stretches of time in between customers. I'd be lying if I said that I like those kinds of chores, but dusting, sweeping the carpet, mopping the floor and straightening the stock are necessary tasks, and it's going to be a serious problem when we have more traffic. Here is where my organization and sense of responsibility cause problems. The person who is supposed to be in charge hasn't given them much training, so a lot of this isn't their fault, but I still have to wonder why they seem unable to realize that they are here to work, not play games or socialize. Is this group of slackers a rarity? Are my expectations that my co-workers actually do some work too high? Is it unreasonable to expect that management spend time training new employees? Am I just some old crotchety babe with extravagant standards? Perhaps it's some delicious alchemy of all of those.

You know, some folk believe that the things that irritate us in other people are merely a reflection of the things we need to work on in our own lives. I don't know that that's always true, but I'm going to consider it a possibility and try to find the lesson that must be hidden in there, somewhere. At any rate, I'm keeping my own counsel. I do whatever I need to do, and consider myself well-paid for it.

And, of course, I plan to come back here to complain about it.

I'm eager to get right to the moaning, groaning and all-'round general complaining that comes along with one's job, but I'm being pulled back to this business of work. To me, work isn't just the thing that I do to keep a roof over my head, food on the table and litter in the cat box. Work is everything that I do that gives some measure of meaning to my life. Career, job, occupation, labor, service, accomplishment and any other path that allows me to make myself and the world a better place. If a paycheck happens to come attached to it, so much the better.

I recently watched The Actor's Studio, a television program. The guest was Roseanne, whose last name used to be Barr, but I don't know what it is now. At the end of the program, the student audience is allowed to ask questions of the guest. One of them asked something about her work, what gives her pleasure or something, and the answer was writing. Which led to Roseanne saying that one of the things that she wants is to use her newest venture to provide opportunities for young people to work in an environment that isn't dead, dying, or uncreative, just so that they could be paid.

While I've always been able to keep a roof over my head, my family fed and the kitties from using my bed as a toilet, I've been fortunate, one might even say blessed, to be able to do work that was important to me. I've never been forced to take a job that demeaned me, or where I was misused or abused. And the few bosses or co-workers who were less than empowering are just a small blip when there are so many people who are compelled to take jobs and do work that doesn't support them as loving, caring, feeling beings. You may be one of them. Even if your job isn't hellacious, you may still find yourself working for or with people who are too busy working out their own, personal demons to be effective or decent people. Then, there's the stress and unpleasantness of having to spend the better part of your day working with people who run the gamut from annoying jerks to outright creeps.

Many of us find that when we joined the team of a particular company, we did so because we found them to be in sync with our beliefs, but that, over time, the company policies changed until they bore little resemblance to the place that first attracted us. That is what happened with the bookstore. Last week a friend said that this bookstore used to be a bookstore that happened to be located in a mall. Now it's a mall store that happens to sell books. Yep, that's exactly what all those corporate changes have wrought over the years. There were, of course, many things for the better. Cost effective ordering systems, and effective and inventive merchandising changes are just two of the areas of possible improvement. Bookstores are not immune from the financial constraints and pressures of a competitive market. Even I'm smart enough to understand that. But, the tenor of the corporation has moved from a belief that serving our customers is our most important focus and goal, to all manner of stupid stuff that gets in the way of assuring that we meet the needs of those very same customers.

The end of the world? Of course not. Is this the worst place out there? Again, of course not. Put into perspective, this kind of work environment is, clearly, not at the level of one that is physically dangerous, one that chips away at your self-esteem, one where you feel intimidated or threatened, one where you are sexually harassed, or one that endangers you, your body, mind or soul, in any way.

But, it does address the issue of being able to live a meaningful life. Whatever your personal circumstances, you have a right to do work that gives you pleasure and that supports you as a person. You have a right, at the end of your day, to know that the world is a better place for having you and your work in it. For most of my adult life, I have been blessed with all of that. I think that part of my working-life success is that I try to find the meaning, even if I have to struggle to do so. Making lemonade out of lemons doesn’t result in just a tasty beverage, it is also that old, sappy saying about taking the bad things that life offers you and transforming them into something divine. Ultimately, you are responsible for your bad work place; you stay and be miserable, you work to make the place bearable, or find the wisdom and strength to know when to cut your losses and leave to find a place that better suits you. That’s my philosophy and I’m sure that I will be putting it to good use during my time spent in the beast.

The next couple of months are going to be a circus of delights, thrills, irritations and challenges.

I can hardly wait.

Work. That which gives meaning to our lives. Job. Occupation.

After ten months of not having a regular job (which is a separate story) I have returned to gainful employment. For many years I worked at a mall store (the mall being the afore titled "beast"). Not a big deal, really. Most of these seasonal shops will hire just about anyone, and usually do. So, it's not a huge surprise that they would hire me.

Truth be told, I'm a good employee. Every boss that I've ever had would tell you the same thing. Except for my first boss who fired me in lieu of his friend who messed up on her cash register and they blamed it on me, even though I wasn't working on that register the day the drawer came up short. That was when I was in high school. First job, first disappointment regarding a non-relative, adult whom I trusted. Same goes for my second boss. The week after I graduated from high school, I was hired by a lawyer. I thought that I was going to be a file clerk, but when I arrived on the first day, I found that I was THE entire office staff. I instantly knew that I was in deep, deep, really and seriously deep trouble. I tried to explain that the only experience I had was a typing class in my junior year (Um, didn't we discuss this when you interviewed me?), but he assured me that I would be just fine. I remember smiling and agreeing that "Yes, I'm sure that I'll be fine," but inside I was wide-eyed, frantic and whimpering, or was it shrieking. He was very kind when, at the end of that first day, he told me that I had made a valiant effort, handed me a check for that day's wages and wished me luck in my future employment. So, except for those two bosses, one a classic creep and the other kindly (but what was he thinking when he hired me??????), all of my other bosses loved me. I work hard. I don't waste time or resources. I arrive on time and stay the whole day. I don't make excuses and am more than willing to do more than my share of the work. I am imaginative, kind, clean, thrifty and cute. And every single one of the six of them was sorry to see me move on, wished me luck and said that they would take me back in a heartbeat if I wanted to return. That's not so many bosses, especially when you consider they cover a period of thirty-plus years and I frequently worked for more than one of them at a time. I know that this sounds boastful, and, honestly it sort of is, but it's true. I am still friends with all of them. Honest.

Which is how I got my new job. Which is really my old job. It is a company for which I have worked, on and off, for more than fifteen years. It is a bookstore that has many subsidiary businesses and one of them is a seasonal calendar store. In a mall. In the belly of the beast. In the sucking black hole that is the mall.

Now, the mall, or the store for that matter, hasn't always been the beast. Fifteen years ago it was a nice mall, with a nice, local management company. They ran a clean, friendly place. The bookstore was nice, too. In fact, it was great. Great managers, great co-workers, great customers, great stock, great corporate support. Great everything. The discount wasn't too shabby, either. But, like everything else, things change. Gradually things changed. Some for the better, but some, sad to say, for the worse. I'm not of a corporate mindset, so it is ridiculous for me to even try to comment on all that, much less try to analyze that aspect. Besides, it's not my financial resources that support the whole system, so what the heck to I know anyway? I'm just a worker with, often, more opinions than sense. That's pretty accurate. I have lots of opinions.

So. Now I'm back. This is going to be a very interesting experience.

Today's new beginning is that I am transferring my old blog here. Let's hope for the best. There will be several posts for a single day, but I will try to date them so that I can keep them straight in my little brain.