I work at retail, so my average day is “targets”, “targets”, and more “targets”. And oh, smelling like perfumes we can’t afford, putting on colgate smiles even when we actually want to punch a customer on the throat, and running like athletes selling clothes we can’t equally afford.
In retail, a person is expected in a day to make more money than he earns in a whole year, and if you think that is preposterous, wait until you see the staff dancing like Michael Jackson celebrating having sold goods worth R58 000 in a day and met their “targets”, and in the end earning about R2 100 in a whole damn month, what about meeting your personal targets?
Anyway, this piece isn’t about how the rich gets richer and poor get poorer because their sweats and tears are responsible for the richer’s riches and only if they could employ that very same level of commitment towards attainment of their own personal goals. This piece is just about time, not in some deep philosophical way, but just about regular hours on my days off.
I may not be necessarily patriotic about reaching targets of R58 000 a day, R 400 000 in a single week and R 1 2400 000 in a month whilst being compensated around R 25 000 a year, but I still love my job. I love keeping busy, being around people to study human behavior, smiling at beautiful ladies and being of “service”, I work with about 90% women colleagues and 100% female customers, so what’s there not to love?
Loving my job as I do, I can’t help but feel time loves us just as much. Work hours are not regular hours; at work, you stand up, dust rakes, hang clothes, sweep the floor, open the door, assist about 80 customers and check time, and it’s only been about 15 minutes; the very same 15 minutes you lose as soon as you pull out a sit on your tea break.
And time on your day off isn’t from the same clock as a work day. Today I was off, the plan was to wake up early, do my house chores, write blog articles, read, spend some quality time with my girlfriend, go lvisit my friends, and listen to the ‘Think And Grow Rich’ audio book. But, I woke up, decided it was still too early so I went back to bed for a couple of minutes (and woke up three hours later), by then it was too late for house chores and so I called my girl over and in a blink she had left (after about five hours), so I just went for a haircut and the barber was extremely efficient (in about an whole hour), and so after that I couldn’t read, write, listen to my audio book or hang out with my boys, so I just went to buy a take away because it was too then late to cook, and surprisingly, all the shops were already closed.
And there goes my day off.
When is the right time to move one to another relationship? Especially after breaking up with a long time partner; the answer is, whenever you feel ready. But, the tricky part is; feeling ready and being ready isn’t always the same thing; there are many false alarms in between.
Have you ever been in a relationship for so long that it ended up feeling like not a relationship? Like you guys were now siblings, except every now and then you’d roar like a lion and take her panties off using just your teeth, and you know you can’t do that to your real sibling, right?
The thing about such relationships is; you often take for granted the effect they have on you since they’ve been around forever and the moment they come to an end you realize that “Bae” was more important than you had realized. Some couples develop certain languages, gestures, expressions, or inside jokes that only they understand, and having a joke so good that only “Bae” would understand and she’s no longer here to hear it can kill a man, and because of that you find yourself missing her so much, often the little things you took for granted, the simplest things, her giggle, her odd sense of humor or just the fresh smell of her panties.
Again, when is the right time to start dating again? And be fair to your new partner. In many cases, people subconsciously compare new “Bae” with ex-“Bae”, like “come on man, Ex cooked better, kissed better, and replied texts much quicker”, so much that you end up asking yourself this very dangerous question; Was that thing really worth breaking up over?
I have learned, in hindsight everything doesn’t really seem “that bad”, our minds are biased, they only remember what we want to remember, in other words, you will not remember the boiling kettle she threw at your genitals for liking another girl’s picture on Instagram, but you will remember the makeup sex you guys had afterwards.
But on a more serious note, comparing your previous relationship to your current one denies the current one a chance to thrive, because such judgments are never really objective.
The right time to move on is when you have truly made peace with the previous relationship and how it ended, when you wish nothing but happiness, health, wealth and many orgasms for your ex-partner (if there is such), and when your objectivity has been restored fully that you can enter a new relationship with no baggage from your old one, when you can truly travel light.
With that said, dear Ex, if I ever pitch up at midnight at your house reciting Drake’s lyrics, just know I’ve been at some dodgy club trying to pick up some dodgy women but failed because I’ve been with you forever and so my game is kind of outdated, and my righted hand with more biceps than the left one because I’ve been masturbating like crazy, and I talk nonstop because I’ve been having no one to talk to lately, and I’m drunk as hell begging you to take me back, please just offer me strong coffee, run me a bath and lay me down on your couch and I will wake up the next morning feeling terribly ashamed, apologize for my hysterics and do my walk of shame back home.
Thank you in advance.
I work at a shopping mall, so I am exposed to all types of people. I work in a women’s shop specifically, so I am exposed to all types of women, beautiful women of all kinds and so I’ve been mad nuts about my job so far, well, until today.
It has been all sunshine and rainbows, until today. There was a bomb scare at the mall; I recall packing Gucci perfumes peacefully when a pile of people ran in the store full of panic, at first I thought they were probably being chased by robbers raiding the mall, and I figured I had nothing to worry about because I had nothing but a rewards card and a R30 in my pocket. But, as they ran around like headless chickens screaming “Bomb” “Bomb” I realize my R30 is nothing as compared to what I’m about to lose. Funny I still stood there for a moment, figured this must be a joke of some sort, but facial expressions around the store suggested otherwise, so my mind pictured Man On Fire by Denzel Washington, the infamous 9/11 bombing of the towers in the States, and most recently, the church collapse in Nigeria that killed more than 80 South Africans, and then after that I can’t really say where the perfumes or the people that were before me disappeared to, because all I remember is me looking back at the shopping mall from the outside and seeing all the other staff from other shops and shoppers that were running towards me, and there I was thinking to myself “Life is short”.
If I had died today I would have never witnessed my niece grow, make my mother proud nor visit Tokyo, life is really that short.
Still on that thought, I am even scared to go back to work tomorrow, what if the terrorist is mad as f*ck right now that his mission got ruined and he’ll return tomorrow to finish the job? Nope, I rather stay home. Plus, my manager will inquire about the Gucci stock that was in my possession, how will I account?