the pieces of my life

Break 2

We’ve hit that portion of the trip where I’m starting to get irritable. I’ve had–shall we say words?–with one of the team leads about the whispers of mandatory eleven hour days for all of next week. Ain’t gonna happen. No way, no how. I will get on a plane back to Seattle first and let them fire me.

Gift wrap is piling up, which frustrating because they keep sending us off to Crisplant, which is slow, slow, slow. We just stand around waiting for the lights to go off.

And they still haven’t replaced the ice cream in the vending machine. And that guy still hasn’t showered.

Lunch

I HATE CRISPLANT!!

Break 1

In our stand-up, they asked, “Does everyone know about the eleventh hour? If you don’t raise your hand.” I, along with the rest of the Seattle crew and a few other did. “Tonight Associates must work a mandatory eleventh hour. I.A.s [Integrity Associates, because apparently “temp” is no longer p.c.] are strongly encouraged to work the eleventh hour.” The Seattle folks were not happy and we asked if the bus back to the Nugget would wait for us. We were told that Seattle folks were strongly, strongly encouraged to work the extra hour and that we could get rides home with the team leads who have cars, but they couldn’t make us work the extra hour. I didn’t grow up in the Reagan years and learn nothing: I just said no.

More gifts I don’t want: poems by Jewel, The History of Torture, Death Scenes

It’s Friday, it’s Friday. Tonight, I shall have my bloody mary at the blackjack table.

Break 2

• Friggin’ vending machine! I’ve been looking forward to an ice cream sandwich since break 1, and the machine is out of them! Other ice cream just won’t do.
  
• The guy who comes around and tallies up our numbers knows my name, but still always says, “Thank you, young lady,” when I’ve given him my totals. He needs a shower pretty badly.
  
• I think I’d like to write an essay, “Working Graveyard with Smelly People, or How I Spent My Christmas Vacation.”
  
• Just another hour to go until it’s like Thursday night, which means tomorrow is Friday, it’s Friday!
  

Lunch

Getting fried chicken all over the keyboard and my apron (this year, a festive red with deep pockets). The night is going quickly: I’m on complete autopilot. I like having the late lunch because it means the end of the evening will pass quickly.

Gifts I don’t want (besides a salad spinner): Naked L.A., Naked N.Y. (not any other Naked City for that matter), Barbie Shake and Make Lipstick or Nail Kit.

Break 1

Feeling the burn tonight. Switched shoes, and so far feet are fair. But I’m feeling sleepier tonight than any other night. Barely standing.

I’m waiting to get my ass kicked by a bunch of little old ladies. Multis cleared out last night, so another away-teamer and I were sent downstairs to singles. The woman in charge so obviously didn’t want us there, but the operations manager insisted. She set us up, saying, “Well, here’s a siscors, but it don’t work. There’s no tape at this station.” The O.M. is running around finding us supplies and we finally start in at 3:50. We get about five items done each when the woman comes back and says, “We stop at 4. You gotta clean up now.” The other wrapper says, “Let me just finish my tote,” and the woman says, “No, you gotta clean now.” We had back to out original stations and run into the O.M. who’s asking why were headed back. I told him, “They stop at 4 over there,” and a woman standing behind him shoots daggers at me. The O.M. was instantly on the phone making sure that they no longer end early. I’m waiting for the singles wrapping posse to find me in a corner of the F.C. to get me for ratting them out.

Tonight’s gift card so far: The gift: Gay Men Straight Jobs. The card: “Maybe you should add your job.”

Found out tonight that in addition to taking over Delivers, I’ll also be taking on SNPs.

Lunch

Still in gift wrap. Doing well, except that my feet are in agony, even with my good new shoes. Hoping we have no problems getting back to the Nugget tonight. I-80 going west of the Nugget was closed because of weather. It started snowing today, but as of when we got here, it didn’t seem to be sticking.

• I wish we had access to customer’s e-mail addresses so we could prevent them from making grave gifting errors. For instance, I’d like to get in touch with the guy who sent his mother and another female each a salad spinner. I’d like to write him and say, “Dude, I don’t even celebrate Christmas, but even I know that no one wants a salad spinner sitting under the tree. How about we swap this for some cool cds before your order goes out?”
  
• Lots of dads sending gifts to kids long distance. Some of the messages have been really sad.
  
• What’s the meaning behind this one. Gift card: “We’re all lying in the gutter…only some of us are looking at the stars.” Gift: two books on courtesans.
  
• Intrigued by the what-seems-to-be brother sending an educational toy to a kid under five (card reads: “I hope you don’t have this, but knowing Mom, you already do), and a violent video game to another brother with a card reading “U OWE ME!” I’m guessing the mother is going to love that one.

Break 1

• There’s a TV show on at 5:30 a.m. on Sundays called High School Sports of the Week. It was fascinating.
  
• Strange to see “Florida Caulder” in the Race & Sports room at the Nugget.
  
• What was I doing in the Race & Sports room at the Nugget? Why collecting my winnings for yesterday’s Dolphins game.
  
• Back in gift wrap. Favorite gift of the night. Card reads: “Can you believe what our other amigo has been up to?” Gift: A MInd of Its Own: The Cultural History of the Penis.
  
• Odd gift: A game, sent by someone in Germany to someone in Washington state called New York Chase. Can’t imagine we’re selling a whole lot of those right now.
  

Break 2

Mmmm, brownies for lunch. Saved mine, and while the brownie is a bit dry, I get to eat the frosting off of it for my snack.

My feet are starting to tire for the night. I’m at that part of the evening where I am not only talking to myself, but I’m talking to myself loudly enough that the locals are eyeing me funny.

We no longer use the turtle packs. At least, nowhere that I can see them.

I’m judging complete strangers from their orders. I decide if I’d want to be their friend or not. I’m particulary fond of people who either order lots of good looking cookbooks (they’re welcome to have me over for dinner) and people who have bought DVDs I’ve recommended on the site (if they’re listening to what I say, then of course I will like them). I have no respect for evil parents who only buy educational toys for their kids (c’mon, everyone deserves a Mike Wozeski toy this year), and I’m sick of Harry Potter, even though I’m finally reading book one and I’m surprised to say, I was wrong about it–I’m absolutely loving it and can’t wait to get back tonight to read more. I’m very curious about the person who ordered the Ben & Jerry’s dessert book, an ice cream cookbook, The Bathroom Book 1, and an ice cream scoop. What they hell do you suppose he/she was thinking?

Lunch

Foiled! Apparently I shoot too fast, and I got pulled from gift wrap to go back to Crisplant. And I was kicking in ass, too, in gift wrap. Most of the stuff coming down the chutes have been pretty mundane–lots of Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings stuff. Not as much Monsters, Inc. for my taste. Only one spotting of books on anal pleasures for women to brighten the shift. But still, the feet are holding up, and it really doesn’t feel as bad. I think the after-shift swim and then eucalyptus bath helped a ton.