I hate my job.
What is it about people that, upon entering a store, they become helpless, stupid, frantic, entitled, and angry children? The entire idea behind retail, food service, anything that's at the bottom of the supply chain is that it's supposed to be foolproof, easy, and efficient. The rational players that I read about and grew to love in Economics are nowhere to be found in America's stores. People whine, people yell, people barter, all in the hopes of making me crack, which sucks for them, because I really don't, unless I find it more hurtful to the company that doles out such a piss-poor wage. I'm really not paid enough to care about their petty problems and, while I definitely could, I'm not technically trained to deal with them, so I have what I consider to be a pretty valid excuse.
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In lighter news, I have just finished the second season of Dexter, at the behest of my roommate and since my newfound Internet interests don't take up as much time as I'd like, I'd thought I'd kill the spare moments with the show about a serial killer who kills serial killers. To her credit, I watched my first episode over at my friend Alex's house. The thing I love the most about this show and wish to talk about right now, is the amazing use of dramatic irony. Through the mismatch between Dexter's inner monologue and the external dialogue arises some of the funniest moments in the show. Also Debra. Debra is freaking hilarious.
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Tomorrow, I will talk about how bad I suck at relationships.
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