I worked retail for a long time and people really do treat you like shit sometimes. But between selling sex toys, mattresses, and jewelry I can say definitively I got treated worst selling mattresses.
All three of my jobs were in sales but selling sex toys we were allowed to put people in their place, and in jewelry people didn’t want to misbehave in a fancy setting. But people at the mattress store had no problem yelling at me, hitting on me, or insulting me to my face.
For a while I was managing my own store for the company. I ran a small location and had struggling employees placed with me for rehabilitation. If their numbers improved they could go back to bigger stores. If not, they got fired.
So this meant I was the manager of problem employees. At one point both of my people had a foot out the door. The company was going downhill and changed computer systems and they were fed up. Consequently, they made a ton of mistakes, because they just didn’t care about the job or learning the new systems.
I strolled into work on what was essentially my Monday to a shit show. Deliveries scheduled without product, wrong things on orders, poor expectations of the process, you name it. I spent the entire morning getting yelled at for mistakes that weren’t mine.
The final straw came when a man called furious that his moms bed for her nursing home had a delivery window he couldn’t accommodate. This wasn’t a huge disaster since we still had time to deliver it before she moved. I ran him through the options and he just kept screaming at me. Not for a solution but because I was there and he was frustrated.
My heart filled with malice and a cold fury. A calculating part of my brain had a realization in that moment that I could stay a punching bag or I could strike back.
I quavered my voice delicately, taking in a shaky, warbling breath like I was trying not to cry. “Sir,” I quivered through fake tears, “I don’t know what you want from me! I told you what I can do, I didn’t make this mistake I’m just trying to fix it!” My voice broke pitifully on the last syllables, sounding in all ways like a sweet innocent person being yelled at who’s just trying her best, really!
It was like I’d doused him with cold water. My emotional act was the realization that he was screaming at someone who was just doing their damn job, and he was being an asshole. He hastily made an excuse and hung up.
I had a third employee covering with me from another store that day who heard everything. When I hung up, I looked over to see them watching me with an awed expression. “Did… did you just pretend to cry?”
“I absolutely fucking did,” I said with feeling, “and I’d do it a thousand more times. If that’s what it takes for someone to realize they’re behaving like a fucking prick, they deserve it.” The employee looked at me like I was their hero.
The man called back, apologizing profusely, having magically arranged his schedule to accommodate delivery. He came in later that week with an apology Starbucks gift card. I was gracious in my acceptance.
I pulled it a few more times before leaving the company. I felt no shame in the ruse. If someone behaves so poorly that it’s plausible their behavior would drive someone to tears they deserve to feel absolutely wretched about it.
4K notes
·
View notes
something happening on a mission, something personal that has soap spiralling; panic and rage making him reckless, thoughtless, and ghost has to draw the line
“you’re compromised johnny; you know what that means?”
“you’re not pulling me out,” soap immediately snarls. he turns on him and ghost barely recognises him; venomous fear turning his eyes to unyielding ice. "you're not sidelining me; i need to be in this-!"
but ghost has never been afraid of venom; spat or dripped straight from bared fangs.
he snakes out a hand grip the back of his neck, jerking him in a rough shake. "if you can't think, you can't be a soldier," he growls and he flinches like he's been struck.
his lips quiver as they twist in a sneer and he wrenches, trying to free himself of his hold.
ghost doesn't let him.
"it means you give your body to me because your head ain't fucking attached to it anymore."
soap stills, body trembling beneath his hand as he sucks in shaking breaths.
he tightens his grip, pulling him closer and digs his forehead hard into his. “it means you give yourself to me so i can have the weapon that you are and use you the way you're meant to be used."
the ice in soap's eyes fractures.
ghost’s voice drops to a whisper, spoken only to johnny, not this facade of vengeance and pain, and wills it to reach him through the glaciers.
“so i can keep you safe ‘til it’s done and i can bring you back.”
948 notes
·
View notes
I just remembered that up until 5th grade, all of the sports teams I was in weren't separated by gender. I played basketball and baseball with boys. And we did just fine.
It wasn't until 6th grade when they segregated it by gender. It didn't make sense to me. I was now in softball because of baseball, because "softball is for girls" and "baseball is for boys" (which confused me bc my dad was on an adult softball team).
Now, my brother's all-male team didn't win a single game. My all-girls team won every single one.
They presented the boys' team with this HUGE trophy, and if you wanted replicas of it, they were $30 each.
My team was presented with a very small trophy. Extras were $5.
That's when I decided gender-segregated sports were bullshit.
779 notes
·
View notes
bro we are NOT calling wwdits bad queer representation this many seasons in just because they're being kinda annoying about a popular ship that may or may not happen, when we literally have a full main cast of explicitly queer characters who constantly remind us that they're queer in a show that isn't even ABOUT romance. its a hilarious mockumentary about a found family of vampires who also fuck each other sometimes. like that's AWESOME! adding a gay couple would be great but the queerness of the characters and the show doesn't solely depend on their relationships!! Yes Even If They're Bisexual And M/F
660 notes
·
View notes
imagine writing this. imagine writing percy increasingly losing himself to his anger and his resentment, sympathizing with Luke, spiraling, being immensely powerful, burning away at his mortality, and not knowing how to deal with any of it. Desperate for help and the one time he breaks down enough to try and get it (Jason) his worst thoughts and perceptions of himself are inadvertently affirmed. He never talks about it to Annabeth. He never talks about it to his mom. Oh but everyone is aware of it. Aware of his anger. Afraid of his anger. Concerned for him and by him. They give each other looks, worried, because they recognize what a danger he could be — to himself, to others, to the gods. But no one says anything, at least not to Percy. No one helps him. No one intervenes. They don't know how to, it seems. (Or maybe they're afraid to). And so they all pretend everything is fine. Percy pretends, bottling it all up inside until the pressure gets too great and that anger boils over and he loses it all over again. He's so desperate for normalcy that he'll take anything, believes in all of the sweet, sugar-spun tales of New Rome and looks away from the rotting underside. He lets himself believe that once he's there the gods will have to leave him alone, because he's done with it all, he's retired (and the gods always keep their promises don't they?).
Imagine writing what is arguably the well-plotted, compelling, and tragic beginnings of a fallen hero arc for percy and none of it being intentional.
RR's penchant for Percy to be explosively angry and scarily powerful, alongside characterizing him as jaded and resentful and desperate, mixed with his refusal to write any in-depth emotional resolution to any time Percy snaps has created an enthralling narrative of a hero just about to fall from grace. and it's all seemingly an accident.
Oh, and another, amazing, unintentional coincidence? if you're taking RR's word that Percy is still 17, that's also the age Luke was when he failed his quest, marking the beginning of his fall as a hero. Like. The narrative parallels are all there. And without any meaning for them to be.
772 notes
·
View notes
Prompt 268
Fright Knight sighs, running a clawed hand through his hair in an attempt to stop the flames from flickering into being. It had been far too long since he had taken a human-ish form. His human-ish form. Ugh. He didn’t exactly care for his human form after so long as a ghost, but needs must he supposed.
Especially with the whole, we’re going to punch a backdoor into the literal daycare part of the Infinite Realms and be surprised when literal toddlers go exploring.
Well, at least it got him off of guard duty for a bit, which was relieving. Not that he didn’t love the darkness, but it got boring in the shadow of his sword for literal centuries with nothing else happening. He was a warrior for Realm’s sake! Borderline an Ancient in both power and age! He wasn’t meant to stay so still for so long.
So while ghostling wrangling wasn’t exactly in his area of expertise, he could definitely gather them back up to the Realms. And deal with the curs who had decided to attack literal babies.
The Daycare area was already understaffed due to just how large it was, and the one in charge of this section had practically sobbed to the Council (In another world they would have been put on hold for a century in line for their concerns, and then more once a Sarcophagus was opened, but they had told the other ghosts in distress, causing others to let them go up in said line) how they were almost certain they had felt at least one core form Outside the realms thanks to the breach.
Which had understandably put everyone at an uproar.
So here he was slipping between shadows to do reconnaissance and take stock of if any Ghostlings had left the city. And gently scruffing those he comes across in exasperation because what are you doing, ghostling? Look at the mess, what would your caretaker say?
276 notes
·
View notes