Overwork and other crimes of nature

As alluded to in yesterday’s post, I worked my ass off over the weekend. Well, figuratively speaking, anyway, since literally speaking my ass is still quite ample. As you can imagine, the turnover rate for employees at a minimum wage convenience store is pretty big, and we were once again left short handed. I filled in for a few of these empty shifts, while training a new employee who will now – hopefully! – begin to fill in the gaps herself.

I did this training all Sunday night and into Monday morning while battling a fairly horrendous snowstorm. We got about 14 inches during that 9 hour shift, and I spent most of it shoveling the walkways and gas pumps so customers wouldn’t slip and fall. And as I shoveled, to keep myself going, I imagined Alec Baldwin’s hoarse cry behind me:

“Always be shoveling. Always! be shoveling.”

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Two days later I’m still sore in muscles I didn’t know I had. As predicted, the first-blush-of-romance-stage with winter has long since faded. I’m sick of snow. I’m sick of shoveling it and slipping on it and tramping through it to get my mail. Forget about waiting for spring. I’m chomping at the bit for it.

In other news, today is Wednesday, which means it’s my turn at Publishing Renaissance. This week’s article is entitled “Crime and Punishment.” Check it out.

A convenience store clerk’s perspective on the Michael Phelps drama

I don’t usually weigh in on this kind of stuff here at Da Blog, but this time I’m going to. I know I’m a week late, but better late than … well, you know.

To those out there who are horribly shocked/dismayed/indignant by the fact that Mr. Phelps was hittin’ a bong: WHY? The dude is twenty-three years old and has more money’n God. Think he’s spending his free time going to prayer meetings, or what? He’s been caught driving drunk in the past, so we know he’s no choir boy.

Besides, I deal with drunks and stoners every time I work. I’ll take 10 stoners over 1/2 a drunk (figuratively speaking, because literally speaking that would be gross) any day of the week, and twice on Sunday. They’re laid back, easily amused, and need little more than a handful or two of Little Debbies to keep ’em happy.

In this day and age, anyone who holds professional athletes up as role models … well, let’s just say that there are much smarter options out there.