An Excuse, A Reason, A Decision, A Myth

HRM has a good point about working at Costco for 10 - 20 hrs / wk. Although I was too chicken to ask about smaller shifts, the impression I got was they wanted more and would ask for more and would continually try to chisel more time. I've been in situations like this before.

Also, the last time I really worked retail (the Book Whorehouse doesn't count because I found a stool in the back and hauled it up behind the cash register to sit my fat ass down on it), I was 23 years old. And when I came home at the end of an eight hour shift, my legs were so swollen, I had to put them up on pillows for the rest of the night. At the time, I was rooming with an old boyfriend (strictly platonic) who was a better cook than I was and more than glad to shovel out dinner and do the dishes. Bless him. I hope he and his boyfriend are happy, wherever they are.

I can only imagine what at least eight hours on my feet would do to me. Actually, no, I don't want to imagine it.

So that my excuse.

The reason is (I know. You're shocked) I'm a snob.

While I would not blush upon being found in Starbucks, Barnes & Noble, or Nordstrom - I could jolly my way out of that - , I would, I confess, be humiliated at one of my managers from Mighty Citadel chancing on me working at Costco. And thank God, I am nowhere near Fezziwig territory.

So my decision stands. Or, more appropriately, sits. I'm keeping my time.

Maybe I'm like one of the old biddies in Gone With The Wind (the book was handed to me when I was twelve and was ordered to memorize and was delighted to do so) who could never adjust to post-bellum life and bake pies in her kitchen or rent rooms to Yankee scoundrel carpetbaggers.

The myth is that I'll take some of that time, finish the move of my office /study / den of iniquity upstairs from the cold, cold basement and try to land some freelance writing or editing gigs.

It could happen. No, really. It could.