of prison at work.
Oh well, they were kind enough to schedule me for Sunday, Monday and Tuesday so the bright side is my weekend good, er, at least until Saturday.It’s hard because at the register, you literally are like a veal, stuck in the cage of a register. Me? I sneak out with the price gun to ring up people’s soda cases and spring water cases so I have an excuse to move 10 steps over and 10 steps back.Today during break, I walked back to the bakery to find no one there and then in the back of the store to find out the scheduling was done because a new bunch of “kids” hadn’t gotten their register training done yet.
I have a distant neighbor who comes to the job and acts as though she is my nearest and dearest, and she didn’t talk to me before I had this job. She runs an illegal day care here and I am just waiting for something to happen to ship her out.
This job has lost any entertainment value, especially when I am on the front end .Suffice it to say, I am looking for one to replace it.
…thanks to my FitBit Zip, I thought I was doing something.I could take care of myself.
I am thirty pounds thinner than I was this past October, and was walking up 15,000 steps once I got over my GI attack.
Then came the job,
Nothing trains you for life as a cashier, or life as a veal, as it were.You get to walk maybe six steps once in a while when a transaction warrants it.You get your little scanning gun and record the items on sale in a shoppers basket.Other times you are just doing lifting, scanning, and bagging:all upper torso action.Even with good supportive shoes on, my legs are screaming.Can we walk a little? Nope is the answer. For a 6 hour shift you get a fifteen minute break.When that comes, I haul myself out into fresh air and try to relax away from the store.
The worst thing is I get to come home and I get the girls out for the last walk of the night but it still leave me 500 steps short.It takes little effort to do that, but for legs I thought were in shape, well, they have a long way to go.
I will get my girls out one way or another.I miss them when I am not here, and I am sure they miss me too, or at least our walks.