Rantily Clad

Another long night at work. They said they had to cut hours, therefore those lucky ones like myself have to work short-staffed and stay an hour later than scheduled to rework the entire store so it's in presentable order. Its at times like these, when I'm rushing around with cart after cart of reshops, an hour after I was supposed to be home, that I am so dumbfounded as to the incompetence that is the human race. May I ask you, what is so hard about putting the potted silk poinsettas back where you found them? Howabout just as a general rule, we start doing that. Like "eye for an eye," only "from one worker to another, cut me a little slack."

So now here I am, in the sleeping house, my feet absolutely stenching of Doritos, or some other highly salted snack food, with a pounding headache, depression and a sense of worthlessness.

If it wasn't for that sweater vest, I think I would've killed myself tonight. Or at least overdosed on Sex and the City. You know, whichever.