produce

In case anyone missed the time-stamp of my previous post, I was up at 5:49 AM this morning. No, not because I have returned to my red-eye college ways; but for the opposite reason. I woke up early this morning because, starting Monday, my Pathmark career has moved up (or down, as you may see it) to the Produce Dept. Yes, today, I stacked grapes, onions, nectarines, and peaches. Oh, those crafty peaches. Always so tricky.

While these new tasks seem more laborious than waving groceries in front of a laser, I do not have to interact with customers! No more old, fat, and/or ugly people asking me to put paper bags into plastic ones. No more telling people how to swipe their fucking credit cards thru the goddamn EPS machine. Well, no more … for half the week. I now work Produce from mon. to wed. .. and Cashiering for the rest of the week. (I don’t want to have to wake up at 6am on a Saturday.)

It recently dawned on me that I, at the ripe age of 19, work at a fucking supermarket. It should have dawned on me sooner, given other people’s typical response of “You? You work at pathmark? YOu, with all your skills, are a cashier at pathmark? Well, fuck me.” (approximate quote). Why am I working at this place? What the hell am I doing? I think it’s because I have no ambition. Simple diagnosis. No ambition. No drive. I just do not care about most things. And I think anyone who has ever known me will very violently nod their head at this assertion. Well, sure, I can get fussy about the way certain things are (“Buckle your seatbelt!”, “No talking during the movie!”, “You’re dealing those cards the wrong way!”); but the main part, I am apathetic about my life situation. I should be uncomfortable with my current comfort (the definition of Drive), but I am not. Sadness.

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