Work

Every time I work, someone comes in to return something that could be as little as 3 bucks, and that’s not the part that baffles me. There would be people driving the most expensive cars, wearing the most shiniest rings, and expensive clothing return something so priceless. Like honestly, what are you doing? You’re loaded and you’re worried about not getting your 3 bucks back. What logic, what sense does that make? Maybe that’s how they got so rich, because I will spend money on ANYTHING. It’s kind of sad, but not the point. I just don’t see the correlation. And then when they have the audacity to start arguing with me about three dollars. It’s pathetic, honestly.

Anyways, I work this entire weekend. I don’t mind working except for the fact I do. I just hate talking to people, my mouth starts to hurts from talking so much. And let’s not even mention the rude customers. I get so sleepy once I’m on the registers, and as ironic as this is. I hate t when it’s not busy. It makes time go by so much slower. Today I work 2 till 9, and I want to cry. I’ll live, I’ll live.

I want to go apple picking on Sunday but I work. SORRY SILLY ME, I AM GOING APPLE PICKING ON SUNDAY. I hate to leave them hanging but I’m sure I made it specific that I can’t work on Sundays. But whoops, not my problem. I sound so evil right now, I’m not. I enjoy my job, ISH, but still 🙂

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