You are cordially invited to Jane D'oh!'s pity party.

I'm doing retail for the time being; like I said, the devil I know. I slipped back into the old phrases and cadences with terrifying ease.

It's not the worst job I've ever had-- heck, it's not the worst retail job I've ever had-- but it just left me feeling empty. As if I needed any more evidence that not so deep below the surface lurks a selfish, nasty, spoiled little bourgeois brat. When I hit a pocket of idealism, I will tell you that any job done with integrity is a worthwhile* job, and what I do to make money does not define who I am as a person. But when I'm pretending to be the authority on stuff people don't really need, stuff I honestly don't care about, so excruciatingly careful to be polite that I slip "please" or "sorry" into every sentence, I've never been further from my ideals. And I may be doing this job to the best of my ability, but I can't find the integrity anywhere.


* With the exception of, like, Nazis. Work with me here.