Checked Out

"To see or dream that you are a cashier, indicates that you are re-evaluating your life and what you have accomplished. Alternatively, it suggests that you have taken yourself out of some situation. You have "checked out".
-Dream Moods A-Z Dream Dictionary

Well that sounds about right. I had a dream recently which I originally assumed represented my squandered potential. In it, I was working as a cashier when I suddenly realized I had the ability to fly. I immediately informed my superiors and prepared myself for a promotion. I'm not sure what kind of a promotion I expected, (ceiling cleaner?) but my boss told me never to fly on company time and insisted I continue working cash. I was disappointed but went back to my cash register. I'm not sure what it all means but I dislike working cash so much that in real life, when one of the managers at work asked me if I wanted to be trained as a cashier, I told him I had a learning disability and was not supposed to handle money. Maybe the dream isn't about me though; around that same time I found out that the guy who works in the furniture department is a doctor, an actual medical doctor. And I though I was over-qualified!

We're horribly understaffed again in the fashion department after another mass exodus. Last week, the staff profit-sharing cheques got handed out, quite a nice chunk of change for anyone who worked full-time. I guess some people were just waiting for that day, because three of them quit immediately upon receiving their cheques. One woman went on lunch and never came back. Walmart instills such loyalty in its people. Due to the loss of staff, 5 new people have been hired for the fashion department. As is our custom, we took bets on how long each one would last. Anything less than 3 weeks is usually a pretty safe bet. I put my money on a perky blonde teenager as the first to go. The joyful ones never last long. Having worked at Walmart 15 months, I have been training others for 14 months and 3 1/2 weeks. I am still trying to perfect my technique so the new recruits are good workers, allowing me to slack off a bit, but not such good workers that people notice how little I do by comparison. It's a fine line, complicated by the fact that some of them are utterly hopeless and some, despite Walmart's rigorous screening process, are potheads or lunatics.

Although I usually have more in common with my younger co-workers, I also enjoy working with the older ladies in the fashion department because they're absolutely insane. It takes a certain kind of person to work at Wal-mart. I don't mean that as a bad thing, or as a good thing. I'm just saying a skewed sense of reality can really help get you through the day. One nutty woman, Sheril, who I work with occasionally, was disappointed when her co-worker Shauna left the ladieswear department and transferred to the shoe department. In an attempt to bond with me one day, Sheril asked if I wanted to play "Stool". To understand what went through my mind at that moment, you would have to know about a dark period in the store's history known as the Feces Fiasco of Summer '06. During the month of June that year, $10,000 worth of towels and linens were destroyed when a single perpetrator entered the store in the early morning hours and smeared feces on everything in sight in the domestics department, the volume of waste suggesting that the offender had been saving up. They were never caught. It was always supposed that the perp was a disgruntled customer or employee which narrowed the suspect pool down to...everyone. So when asked if I wanted to play Stool, it briefly crossed my mind that I may have discovered the elusive shit disturber. I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed to learn that the stool was the regular four-legged variety meant for sitting on and the game of Stool was very simple: Each fitting room has one stool in it. You place the stool in the centre of the small room so the door still closes but the stool is very much in the way if you're trying to try on clothes. Nine times out of ten, people don't think to move the stool, they just work around it. As a game, Stool left much to be desired. If I could take a shot of vodka every time the stool remained unmoved, then we might have something. But Sheril was impressed with my efforts and said, "You're good at Stool. You can be my new Shauna." On a general creepiness scale, I would rate her comment about a 7. On a creepiness scale statistically adjusted for the crazy shit that goes down at Walmart, I would give it a 4. I hope desperately to avoid becoming the new Shauna.

I am currently applying for summer internships in libraries, hoping to avoid Wal-mart's special brand of madness. I have accepted this truth though: there are crazy people everywhere and they will always find me.

p.s. Never buy towels at Wal-mart.
p.p.s. Never buy anything at Wal-mart.