Yep, he did. Good News because convenience stores specialize in liquor, cigarettes, and lottery tickets. Increased misery equals increased profits. And, as a Loyal Employee, I’m supposed to maximize the misery/profit flow by suggestive selling scratch tickets and upselling liquor and cigarette orders (half-gallons instead of fifths, three-pack specials instead of packs). AND I’m supposed to play a CD (made specially for us by some shithead at corporate) that’s filled with sad, sappy, depressing music, to capitalize even further on this recession depression.
I nodded, anxious to get home and get to bed, and told him I’d be happy to go along with this “Kick ‘Em When They’re Down” Plan…even though, of course, I had no intention of doing so. I like my customers. I’ve known most of them for years. They’re my neighbors and friends. Most of them work their asses off for not enough pay, unfortunately spend too much of it at our store as it is, and the fuckwads in corporate want me to charm even more of it away from them? I don’t think so. It’s hard enough getting enough sleep when you work third shift; I don’t need a guilty conscience interfering with the process.
This is what I did instead.
Monday evening I burned a CD of my own, filled with upbeat, happy tunes, and brought it into work. I wore my brightest lipstick and smiled my biggest smile to each and every customer who came through the door. I asked fondly about children, subtly reminded customers about mortgage payments and fuel bills, and expounded on the futility of gambling away hard earned cash on a 1-in-500 chance of winning a few bucks from a handful of lottery tickets. At six-thirty I wiped off my lipstick, replaced my happy CD with the sappy CD, and added up my sales. $150 less than the night before. Then I left the store with a spring in my step, drove home with a smile and slept like a baby Tuesday morning.
I only dance for myself.