It's that time of the month

Damn, how did I get to this point, this "oh, crap, it's the last day of the month and I haven't posted anything" point? Maybe I should start a policy of drunken blogging; the content might not make sense, but there would be content.

The last couple of weeks have been a blur, as the hammer came down on my store and we closed shop. The company has been assuring us for months and months, "Oh, yeah, we're gonna move you to a better location in town, we wouldn't just close your store, heavens, no!" Sure. And the Tooth Fairy is gonna respect me in the morning. I know bullshit when I hear it.

We had two weeks to pack up every last bit of merchandise in the place and ship it out to other stores, remove all the shelving and fixtures, and sweep and vacuum a building that is going to be demolished in a few days. Up until mid-day last Saturday, we were also doing all this with customers coming in to make purchases from our ever-dwindling inventory. Some of them felt the need to come in to gawk and generally get right in our way as we were trying to get shit done. We so desperately needed Officer Barbrady to come in with a cattle prod. "Nothing to see here, move along, all you lookie-loos." Really, folks - if watching a few people pack up a store is your idea of entertainment, I would suggest going home and jabbing a crab fork into your eyes; it's the next logical step.

Even after we put a sign on the door that explained the fact that we were closed, people would not stop coming in and asking about it, as if the sign were some kind of joke and we were withholding their precious batteries. Customers would phone us, and on average, would make us repeat "No, this location is no longer in business" at least five times during the conversation. Yes, we're closed, so get the fuck out of my way and have a blessed day.

It's all been a bit more physical work than I'm used to; it's made me realize, "Hey! I'm a middle-aged woman who's grossly out of shape!" And then I go get some pizza. Yesterday, we finally got the dumpster that we'd been trying to acquire for days, and the only two of us who were on site that day happened to be the two oldest employees in the store. I have to say, though, that the two of us kicked ass, kicked paunchy, varicose-veined, silver-haired ass. My muscles are still not on speaking terms with me, my knees are on strike, and my feet are in negotiations with a different, younger body, but the worst of my injuries out of all that lifting and tossing is the giant hole I ripped in the armpit of my RENT t-shirt when I hooked it with a bracket attached to the rather weighty shelf I was tossing over the side of the dumpster. If that shelf had been half an inch closer to my body when I heaved it up and over, I'd be typing this with stitches in my side.

Starting tomorrow, I'll be working at another of our locations. My drive will be half an hour instead of seven to ten minutes, but at least they're keeping me, and I'll no longer be working with Annoying Boy. Today we wrapped things up, took the last of the keep-it crap out of the building, and shut off the lights for the last time. Last Sunday was my one-year anniversary at this job, but I really didn't think I harbored any sentimentality toward the location, save for the fact that it was a short commute. But damned if I didn't spill some tears as I was driving out of the lot.

Shit, I'm gonna miss that crappy little store!