December 17, 2001
Headless Joseph
"Jillian, could you please come back to the front counter. There are no breaks in the sweat shop."
This was a page heard all over Cappel's today. BUt no one enjoyed it as much as I did, for both humor and irony.
For some strange reason known only to her, my psychotic boss Sandy made the arbitrary decision to redo all of the discontinued flower picks. Nevermind the fact that most of the flower picks we have at Cappel's are discontinued. Nevermind the fact that there an entire aisle, on both sides, is devoted to boxes and boxes of flower picks.
This may sound only mildly daunting to you. Perhaps I have not given the chore due credit.
We have to check to see if stock is in the back. We carry stock to front counter. We remove stock from box. We reprice and rebag each piece. We hang on peg hook with newly made string tag.
Three of us got through about a dozen boxes. We only have about two hundred to go.
This is going to take weeks.
This is a slow and painful way to die.
So we priced "crusty" flower picks all day. And the most exciting thing we talked about were Bin Laden urinal cakes.
Gee, thanks Melinda.
The Christmas cheer in my house is somehow tainted by the fact that our nativity has a headless Joseph. I don't know who broke him. All I know is that his head has been sitting at the feet of the baby Jesus for days. I think he is waiting for a miracle of God to repair him.
Is this somehow sacriligeous?
He will be home in three days. If I don't explode from excitement or imagined fat before he gets here, it'll be a true miracle.
I hate being a girl. I can't eat a cookie without feeling guilty.
Perhaps this is a personal problem?
Among many.
astera at 8:13 p.m.