Out of the Red and into the Gray

Jack in the Box had worn me out and I was starting to need a little respect as a human being.  I found it hard not to feel like a slave in the drive through window.  I felt sad about my co-workers and their lack of idealism.  I really wanted a version of America that I don't think will ever exist.  I just want it to be okay to work at a job and get respect regardless of your occupation.--no judging-no classism.  I love having a strong work ethic and staying busy.  Unfortunately, as a creator it is difficult to get paid for all the work we do.  Beauty is under priced.

Well, back to the old me full of grand ideas and wanting to conquer the world.  I thought the only real way to get respect as a teenager is through a retail job.  Note:  I had been to a mall like 3 times in my life before high school.  I was sure that the mall was where I could make more money per hour and maybe be treated a little nicer from the clientele.  The biggest highlight would be to not smell like old french fries every night.

I can not remember how JCPenny ended up hiring me but I was very excited.  They had a dress code and I had to dress nice which was difficult seeing how I had only hand-me-downs and thrift store finds.  Also, there were less hours available and the pay was only the a dime higher than my last career. Even if I wanted to buy new clothing it was not really financially feasible.   I was also taking a risk with the job because I was hired on for extra holiday help.

I envisioned a retail world where I would get to help people in fitting-rooms and learn to fold fancy and gain some organization skills for clothing placement.  This was not my job.  I was a catalogue slave for the people that hate shopping in populated mall department stores but really need their mall junk.  There was a separate entrance in the back of the store so that the folks picking up packages could have a some what private experience.

In my short experience I found catalogue people to be mean and some what unforgiving to a young under trained me.  I was on my feet in "nice" shoes for 8 hours at a time and had to climb these crazy rafters to find packages that seemed to be in no order at all.  My co-workers where all in their mid to late 60's and should not have been climbing ladders and scaffolding.  I became their runner in my terrible shoes and felt old beside them. If I could have gotten gray hair at seventeen I would have gained an entire patch of grayness in those few months.