Tiger (in the) Woods

My latest adventures take me into the woods. And unlike the streets of Philadelphia, the woods don’t stink of or have any people. That’s not entirely true. I saw a in the creek with her dog and was really surprised. I ducked down and tried to respect her privacy. Not like I shouldn’t have been there (anarchists aren’t supposed to jive with the idea of private property, you know). But I thought I was alone, and that’s kind of the point of woods walking: to think, etc.. You don’t go into the woods to meet sexy singles exactly.

Yesterday I came upon two guys getting high, and had this momentary fantasy of joining and becoming great friends with them for the afternoon. But they thought they were alone and meeting a girl in the woods and sharing your drugs with her might be too weird for anyone.

My most exciting discovery so far is an arrangement of an almost immaculately laid deer skeleton. Every vertebra is snugly set in the mud, all in a row. Of course, I’d hoped it was a wolf or a bobcat, but it was still ing cool to play CSI for an hour.

Claudia helped.

Another Impressive Job to Add to My Resume

I’ve been taking photos of kids with the Easter Bunny. And sometimes…I am the bunny. At least the anti-corporate perks are great. It is a small local company, owned by people I know. I actually know the person who signs my paycheck, and I see her (yes her!) everyday. I don’t have to wear a uniform, or clock in, or wear a nametag. If you’ve ever worn a nametag at your work, you’ll undoubtedly be familiar with customers using your name sarcastically or to personally disrespect you. They believe they reside in some kind of exclusive echelon because they have blatant access to what your name is, while you, the ignorant working class servant, do not know their name. “Well thanks for your help, Caitlin”.

Several occasions in my retail working life have warranted a severe reaction to unconventionally rude customers. At this juncture the person has realized that this employee, me, is surprisingly confrontational, and their confidence is suddenly stricken with doubt. At which point the person will then use my name to “tell” on me, because they can no longer uphold the argument themselves. They are seen looking around for a more authoritative figure to back them up. A manger in retail does not have your back. A manager will absolutely side with that dickhead, even though he knows you, and has never seen this person in his life. An apology might be made later, in the back, and it’ll be such a laugh, oh those uptight customers. But the pseudo-apology leaves one feeling even more disgruntled and helpless.

If dickhead can’t find a manager, they then use that critical piece of information, your name, to ensure that you will be told on, yes they will be making some kind of report to the highest headquarters about your performance and they will use your name, and you will get into so much trouble.

A shameful brand on your company issued polo shirt will sabotage your argument. Dickhead will dramatically look down at your nametag and say your name with the same wrinkled nose of repulsion when one discovers expired milk in the fridge and say “Caitlin”. And with self assurance building in their face, their posture, every second they will say very syrupy sweet: “Who’s your manager?”.

If you can not hesitate and fire back, just as sickly sweet—no, be adorable when you tell them the first and last name of your boss, and the name of his boss and what their titles are, and politely encourage them to give either person a call, you will make that fucker back down!

My thing is, I don’t come to your job and treat you like shit just because you’re at work and can’t doing anything about it. So go home, and tell your partner all about what a gigantic bitch I am. Declare that you will never again return to that store whilst simultaneously rehearsing all the nasty things you will say to me when you come in again. Bring it.

At this job, my boss always takes my side, and we can tell people to get lost if they’re creating a scene because they can’t do anything about it. There is no “Mom” or “Dad” to tattle to. By contrast, if a customer arrives that we like, and is a good person, we can cut them a deal, or say things like “It’s on the house”, which is such a nice divergence from the corporate hell that would never allow you to do that for good customers.