Coyotes and Grundies

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Good news; I have gotten a new job. My dignity can be restored once more as I return to the education field.

I had thought that working in a retail store would be fun, I love shopping so it would be like shopping all day and meeting nice people right? Wrong...oh so wrong.

It is hard work and I have so much respect for people who work in shops now, especially those who work in big department stores that have a heavy volume of customers yet who always keep the floor understaffed--to make a few more bucks for the fat cats; meanwhile, the slaves--in this case that would be me--work like they are in a Siberian labour camp, with the conditions in Siberia only being slightly better. *wink*

I would rather teach than have to go into the women's changerooms at the store and pick up the clothes some slovenly high-schoolers discarded. I mean, I am used to giving high-school kids homework, NOT picking up the inside out grundies they tried on and left on the floor. Oh my stomach is turning. I use hand sanitizer copiously. It might kill the germs but the psychological scars remain.

The other day some lady was buying a whole bunch of clothes, she had her teenage son with her. As I was going through ringing items up, I picked up something she had tried and had then left inside out. I just happened to grab it by the hygiene strip (the adhesive strip attached to the crotch area so that when some poor bugger buys the item which has been tried on by who knows how many sweaty fannies--they can remove the strip and hopefully find the item clean). The item was a bathing suit bottom and here I was touching the crotch area that had just been touching her middle-aged fanny. I'm making myself sick even recounting it.

My stomach did a back flip when I realised what I was touching, she was obviously embarrassed and I think the son wanted to die. I was trying to carry on and in doing so made a whole bunch of inane comments about whatever crap came into my mind, which only made things worse. Why oh why are people such dirty blighters? What kind of dirtbag tries on undergarments then takes them to the check-out counter inside out?

I bet Kate Middleton has never had, and never will have, to touch some aging woman's swimsuit crotch area. Why didn't I marry royalty...why? why?

Speaking of Kate, as I go about my daily life doing country things such as today's adventure which involved running up a hill with logging debris all over it--while brandishing a big stick because my dogs were getting into it with coyotes--I keep thinking, what are Kate and William doing right now? Hobnobbing with other royals I expect, living in luxury--eating little cakes--as I romp around the bush in trakky daks, dishevelled hair and an unwashed face, yelling and getting ready to fight off a pack of coyotes with a broken stick.

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