Saturday, October 21, 2006

To all my homies in retail

Originally posted 5/9/06


The Idiot has always been noble on the inside, but before having control over all you subjects, I had the same slog jobs as everybody else. So I have great respect for all those in retail jobs, where the customer is always a blight. Working for damn near minimum wage trying to put yourself through school for overachieving managers who basically took a job out of high school and never had the ambition to do anything better and detest anybody who is working toward a real future.

The Idiot takes his hat off to all of you. This poem is for you.

“Ode to Retail”

I took a pen and made a rhyme,

At my job to pass the time.

The time I have will slowly pass,

‘Cause I can’t sit upon my ass.

So I stand here in my gloom,

The hour cannot turn too soon.

A lady approaches with towel in hand.

“Can I buy this?” Yes, you can.

Why even ask, did you think that we

Would turn down an opportunity

To take your money and lose a thing

That’s tackier than a nipple ring?

You’re a waste of carbon, now be a dear,

Take your receipt and get out of here

Before I shove it up your rear.

So I stand here once again,

Writing this poem with my pen.

My legs are tired, both my feet ache,

My manager’s pissed ‘cause I got here late.

My shirt is dirty from stocking stuff,

My hair’s messed up, and this music sucks.

“The drapes are down at the end of the aisle,”

I tell a woman with a huge, fake smile.

And as she turns to walk away, under my fake smile I say,

If you ask me that again, I’ll pull out all your hair that’s gray.

I’m not upset, I just can’t bear

The riding up of my underwear.

If this continues, by the end of the day,

My crack will go straight up my back,

I think I’d look real strange that way.

Now that we are in a rut,

I’ll take a break and fix my butt.

And maybe get a bite to eat,

Something filling, something sweet,

Anything, I just need some food

To keep me in my happy mood.

The break was short, but back to work

So I can stand here like an idiot.

The above lines did not rhyme,

But then, neither does this one.

A woman and her kid, isn’t that cute?

I love kids, well, that one just puked.

Do they clean it, no they just leave,

And I’m stuck here to clean the heave.

I’m not trying to sound too bitter,

But I just hate to see people litter.

Outside, it’s a beautiful day.

Sun is shining, kids at play.

Blue above, not a cloud in the sky,

Green below, the grass has grown high.

People singing, having fun,

Yet here I stand, twiddling my thumbs.

It’s the money I make that keeps me here,

It’s not a lot, but it buys beer,

That I don’t drink, ‘cause it’s at home,

And I’m stuck here, dry as a bone.

Yet, I stay here, come what may,

Every night and every day,

I don’t make much, and that’s a fact,

And the money is easily spent away,

From buying a bunch of useless crap.

I’ll piss and I’ll moan privately,

And deal with every whining snob,

But if a manger asks, then you’ll see

Me smile and say, “I love my job!”

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