Friday, November 23, 2007

Der Schwartzfreitag

Further tales from the seemy underbelly of retail America...

Today was Black Friday. I opened at Ho(t)me(n) Depot, meaning I started work at 6 a.m. Meaning I got up at 4:30 to be there. I was congratulating myself on how far I've come. There was a time when if I had to be anywhere before 10 a.m. it was like I had to slather my face body with grease and swim the English Channel. But here I am now. The alarm goes off, I'm out of bed, out to the kitchen to put the tea on, take Faithful Companion for a walk, get back, fix my tea, jump in the shower, get dressed, and I'm out the door. It takes me about a half an hour to get to Ho(t)me(n) Depot, but I've tricked myself into believing it takes 45 minutes. That way, I'm never late.

This morning, it was not a bad thing that I was a few minutes early. We hit the ground running. When I arrived, there were cars in parking lot.

Seriously?

Ho(t)me(n) Depot?

Now, we did have some bargains strewn about the store. Seven dollar coffee grinder, these cool $10 tool bags, a Dewalt drill for a mere $97... But there's nothing out there that could compel me to get up that early to goo shopping.

But Black Friday is called Black Friday not in the same sense that that plague was Black. Rather, it's "In The Black" Friday, where retailers such as my place of employ hope to make a double digit percentage of their profit margin for the year. I'm not sure we faired so well. Traffic was light overall, not a lot better than our average Friday.

So my day started off with this guy coming up to me... Okay. I came up to him. Greeting him with my standard, "Hi! Can I give you a hand with anything?"

And he looked at me and said, "Let me tell you about my stool."

And sure enough, it turned out he was not talking about a short, backless bench but rather a turd. It seems he was prone to constipation and that made his ol' brown logs pretty thick and dense, and they would clog up his toilet because of the s-curve in the trapway.

Together we strolled the toilet aisle ("Terlet Verld!") checking for one that didn't have such a severe swoop to it. It looks like he would be well served by the Kohler Wellworth, with the Ingenium Flushing System, one of the most powerful in the industry.

And, gone from the Soundtrack Of My Work Life are Moby and REM and Supertramp; replaced by Christmas music. Of a kind. It's all sort of jazzy Christmas music, with lots of mention of of the weather and Santa, but Jesus and the Incarnation... Not so much. And I'll be listening to that for the next sixty-two days.

But things got better from there and Black Friday went pretty well.

And another interesting thing. My department head is talking--a lot--about me being promoted to take his place. As in, sooner than April.

Now, who the hell could have predicted that? This is very far from a sure thing, but in the mean time, I seem to have a pretty good job.

Is fortune perhaps smiling on me once again?

Here's an interesting development.

After months and months and months of passing through the world of men who love men without seeming to inspire much in the way of interest, my biorhythms seem to be peaking. And there's even this guy who seems interested in being my slave.

Now in my life--or at least, in my online life--requests to drive down there to Murphreesboro, Tennessee and abduct some guy sight unseen and drag him back to chain him to my bed come in fairly frequently. And I dodge them as gracefully and as kindly as I can.

But there's this guy who seems sincere, realistic, considered in his approach, and experienced and enthusiastic about being owned.

Oh. And he's hot as hell.

We have yet to meet. But we're working on that.

Mastery.

So with my recent awareness that I do indeed seem to have a gift at being a Top, I wonder if I might be similarly gifted at being a Master?

Interestingly, that could be an answer to the Too Set In My Ways conundrum, huh? If I get to be In Charge in the relationship, then there's not much reason to change my ways. It would be for my slave to adapt to them.

*sigh*

Backrubs on demand... Without reciprocation.

But anyway. Like my ascent of the management ladder at Ho(t)me(n) Depot, this has much more to do with the opening up of possibilities than it does with anything I can be sure of.

Just now, walking Faithful Companion in the moonlight, I saw Orion.

Orion the Hunger, up there in the stars with his dog, too. Forever chasing Taurus the Bull through the heavens, pursuing and pursuing but never attaining.

But there's joy in the hunt, too.

3 comments:

Xris (Flatbush Gardener) said...

My sister used to work in retail. The way she talked about it, I always understood it to be Black as in the Plague.

'bastian said...

Good luck, SIR. I'll be horribly jealous in a friendly way. :)

'bastian

pig said...

Happy Turkey Tales, SIR... i would have gladly consumed all those sweet Yams in a doggie dish from the floor SIR, what would the assembled Folks have said thereto, wonders the pig.

adam in RI