Mood: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeep. When you walk into a mall, there is more than meets the eye. All around you, in each little habitat of a store, you will find cliques and politics--some alliances between stores, and also some arch enemies that new-hires are told about when they begin working there. It's absolutely ridiculous. I'm posting from work right now, at the 'bastard store' as I like to refer to it. There is this alliance between this Italian leather store (owned and opperated by obnoxious Italian/Egyptian people) and the gourmet pretzel place. What makes simple things like pretzels into something gourmet is quite beyond me. It seems silly to me. I don't really dislike any store in particular, or the workers there, except for Mirti, that Italian leather place I was refering to earlier. They are under the impression that everyone within an audible distance to the store is all for hearing loud Egyptian love songs. Maybe I'm a jerkoff, but I certainly do not enjoy Egyptian love songs for the simple reasons that they are A) terrible and B) in a language foreign and not understandable. There is a girl I often see in the leather store that doesn't actually work there, but is in there so often that she might as well just work there. Rather, she works 2 stores down. She flirts with the Egyptian guys, which is fine; flirt away. The problem I DO have with it is her loud shoes with 9303930 inch heels that make an echoey CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK on the floor tiles that infultrates my eardrums with deafening force. Nails on a chalkboard. Really. Other than that, I completely hate my job more and more with each waking moment. I told my assistant manager this, and he replies with "Why do you hate Cingular?" and I give him a visual: Imagine if you will, a visit to Italy. The countryside is beautiful and exhilerating. You enjoy the serenity and think it's a wonderful place. Now, imagine having visited Italy during the prime part of World War II -- now Italy looks like garbage and no one in their right mind would want to go there or enjoy it in any way shape or form. Thus, my disdain for Cingular. My co-workers came in before me, when things weren't in such a state of uprootedness and torture. I think he got the point. Oh, and speaking of the clicking Italian Leather Store wallflower, I hear the mating call of her heels as I type this. Lovely.
Mall politics
4:12 p.m.//11.01.05
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