There are three major jobs for people with my skill level at work: Register, Maintenance, and Sales, which I am good at, okay at, and terrible at, respectively. This is because Register is really straightforward, Maintenance lacks structure, and Sales involves approaching shoppers out of the blue and convincing them to buy stuff.  

Almost every one of my shifts is on the Register, which is safe, because I know it and can handle it, even on the worst day, and it’s the one place I’m comfortable making small talk.  

However, I’ve noticed a new trend lately. I’ve been getting a lot more Sales and Maintenance shifts. And on top of that, I’ve frequently been pulled off the register and flung out onto the floor to help customers or to make the store look pretty. I’m picturing the managers gathered around, working on ways to get me out of my comfort zone. Kate says I’m being paranoid. 

And then one day a manager came to me and said, “You’re doing a better job at approaching customers on the sales floor. We were all talking about it at the meeting.” 

See!? See? 

One of the bits of jargon that is used at work is that, when it comes to bad sales figures, bad enrollment for our customer appreciation program, or even a messy store, these things aren’t called problems—they’re called opportunities. It gives us a chance to sell more, or to step up our sign-up pitch, or to make the place sparkle. And so, in this vein, I’m not being treated badly by being pulled away from the thing I know, but I’m being given an opportunity.  

I just wish it wasn’t so daunting. 

I won a prize at work!  

You know how at some cash registers at some stores they try to get you to enroll in their email reward programs? The ones you probably say no to because you don’t want to get anymore junk mail?  

Well I have managed to sign up a higher percentage of people than anyone else at the store. Mind you, that’s still a pretty low percentage overall, but I’m way above average. So much so that the managers want me to share my secret* with other employees. 

Go me! 

_____ 

* I don’t actually know my secret. I just ask people if they want to join, and a lot of people say yes. 

A few weeks ago at work I fell off a ladder. For the second time. I’m pretty sure they think of me there as That Guy Who Falls Off Ladders.  

It could have been worse, though. It could have been like my first time, where I lashed out to brace myself on the closest shelf, only to have it collapse, spilling its contents all over me, so I grasped at the one underneath it, only to have it collapse, spilling its contents all over me, so I grasped at the one underneath it, only to have it collapse, spilling its contents all over me, until I thudded against the floor, covered in kitchen organizers.  

One of our employee mottos is “Safety First,” but I am clearly too much of a rebel to abide by it. 

Last September I lost my job editing for one or two reasons, so I had to find a new one to bring just a little bit of money into the household. And now I’m working retail. I’ve been at this place part-time for seven months now, and to be honest, I’m a little embarrassed about it.  

I’m a trained, experienced editor with a decade of office experience under my belt. I’m a published author and a somewhat talented artist who (occasionally) sells greeting cards. And I spend fifteen to twenty hours a week behind a cash register, and I’m not that great at it. 

I am aware that there is something a little bit snobbish about my embarrassment, but not as much as you’d think. I work with people from seventeen to seventy, and I don’t judge a single one of them; they all have their reasons for being there–some out of necessity, some for just a little extra money, and some genuinely love what they do. So why am I so down on myself, if I’m not down on them? 

It may just be because I’m down in general. I haven’t been okay since last summer. I don’t feel like I have anything to contribute to the world, basically. It’s why I don’t post all that much anymore. Some of this is probably a midlife crisis. Much of it is the mental illness I’ve been struggling with all my life, which has been a major source of frustration for my psychiatrist, who can’t find the right cocktail to reduce the pain.  

But in the end, what I’m trying to say is this: I work at The Container Store* now. For better or for worse, it’s what I do. 

__________ 

* We sell containers. It’s the most on-the-nose name for a retail chain.