Tales from a Retail Hell

Hello people of the internet! It seems for the moment I'm back in business.

Well, I made it through the holidays in one--physical--piece. Mental was never really a whole slab to start, so we'll let that one slide for the moment.

I've had a pretty eventful few months, mostly involving working my face off.

July/August, my mother shattered her ankle which had this one driving multiple times a week back and forth from her house and my apt. Only a 100 mile jaunt in each direction... no biggie. Plus side, I had my dog living with my during that time. Yes, this is the same dog that farted on me when I had my shoulder surgery... but who can resist this face:

My mom's well on the road to recovery now, and my baby dog is back living with her :-( Sad face was for the dog, not my mom's healing ankle.

In September, I was in Chicago to celebrate a dear friends birthday.In-conjunction with being blown off by 3 people that live in Chicago. My Facebook is riding a little lighter these days.

October took me on a secret trip to California to see an old/lifelong friend. I was there about a week, which happened to be over Halloween. That trip is a whole post in it's own. I will say, that one of those days I walked from the Miracle Mile to Sunset:

Along the way I stopped and got a tattoo at the famous High Voltage shop... yes, the one that Kat Von D owns. No, she wasn't there. But Khoi--from the show--did my tat.

Notice how that phone isn't my Evo? Yeah, lost my phone when I was there... well, kind of. I *thought* I lost my phone and got a pay-as-you-go replacement for the day.... proceeded to find my phone the moment we got back to my friend's house.

That brings us up to November/December.

As I have mentioned before, I work in retail. At a place we will call "Better Purchases" Working in such a place during the holidays can be detrimental to one's health. Don't worry, only had laryngitis for 2 weeks this time around  -_-  Trying to sell and Xbox to someone when you sound like Kathleen Turner after a bender is.... interesting.

As I said, I made it out in one piece. No maulings by mothers trying to get the last Leaster Leap Pad... though, at times, it was a close call. 

I would also like to add, the holidays bring out the dumbest in people. Some of the things people would as me, just blew my mind. One of my favorites was people asking if I could check the inventory of other stores. Now hold on a second before I lose you on this one... they didn't mean other "Better Purchases" they meant "Bull's eye" or "Buy-Me-Toys". Multiple people asked me this. It numbs the brain. Runner up to the dumbest thing asked of me this year was: "Do you guys rent video games?" *falls over* Rent???? Really? Does my shirt say Lackluster, lady? I know at one time I did work in a rental store, but come on. Another fan favorite is people not believing me when I told them we were out of something. Example, Battlefield 3 for Xbox. We've been out since Black Friday. And yes, I mean still to this day. None in store. People have this look that I call the "You're fucking lying to me." I get it a lot. Not just at my place of employment.... but I digress. I get that look about 5 times an hour every shift. I'd like to go on record that I worked something along the lines of 40+ hours every week for the last 2 months. That a lot of "looks" for one person.

As I started to mention, I get this look a lot of places. Because apparently, I look like I work in every store I walk into. No joke. And here's some examples!

Back in March, when I was still in my sexy arm brace. Y'all remember that right? So hot... anyway, this lovely bookstore was going out of business, and I was there like a crow on roadkill. So picture me, in my stupid back hat that I wear, Hollister hoodie, ripped up jeans and the armbrace carrying a basket around browsing books, in my happy place. Not once or even twice, but 4! times I was stopped and asked for help with something. Of course, I tell all of these people I don't work there, and they all give me that look. Yes, the same "look." One girl even said, "Well, I *saw* you putting books out." Flabbergasted at this--and high on pain medication--I told her, "I.... I'm buying books....." she stomped off. Twat.

This one's a little older of a story, but when I was working at both my waitressing job and "Better Purchases," it was a Sunday, and I'd had an morning meeting at "BP," and then was opening up at the restaurant. This gave me about an hour in-between leaving one, and needing to arrive at the other. As they are only about 5 minutes away from each other, I decided not to go home, but instead to go wander around in "Bull's eye" to kill some time. Now mind you, this is a football Sunday, and I worked in a sports bar and grill, so I'm wearing a Patriot's jersey, and my black work paints.... compared to the workers of "Bull's eye" that wear red and khaki. I was just walking out of the fitting room, after trying on some pants and a lady stops me, and asks, "How many items can I take in?" I tell her, I don't work there... yep, you guessed it, "the look."

Another time that I was in "Bull's eye" wearing my "Better Purchase's" uniform, on the phone with my mom, angry about something or another. I get stopped, asked where something is. But as I'm all fired up about something I gave them a look of my own, and tapped my name tag and said, "Better. Purchases." and stormed away from them. My mom cackling on the phone at me. That time, I could only feel "the look" boring into the back of my head.

So, I wonder... what about me screams, "Ask me for help!" Because even other store's uniforms don't seem to fend off the mouth breathers that like to ask me questions. Or is it because I kind of dislike people? I mean like how cats are... when they know you hate them, they come and sit in your lap.

The world may never know.

Again, sorry for not posting. But these should be coming more often now. As my New Year's resolution is making an active effort to change my mental state. This blog started out as a therapist recommended device, seems only fitting to actually be using it. 

So, please send me story requests! Other wise, I can just ramble about my dog for the next 300 posts.... granted, even with story requests, I'll still probably talk about my awesome dog.

Until next time,

-L

PS-- Happy New Year if I don't post before then.

3 months late, and a dollar short

Holy crap. Yes, I suck so hard guys. Can I still blame my bum arm? Which, here's an update:

 This is from shortly after surgery.

That's my Action Figure shoulder--Now with karate-chop action!

And now! Just a few months after surgery, scar has flattened out, and my arm is feeling pretty awesome. Before, when I was still in the brace, I would have said that having the surgery was the worst idea I've ever had... and I've done some really, really dumb things! But I digress, my arm feels about 90% back.


So, now that I'm back and plan on actually posting, story time! This one is a little... sexual.

So, all minors out!!!!!

Are you gone yet? No really, X out.... you've been warned.


A very long time ago, I use to date... shock/death!
Well, back in 2005 I was dating my last gf and we had a bit of alone time in my dorm room. Fill in the details if you want, probably not, I know. But it came to a point where some lube was required. Now, a small backstory.

A night club in Ann Arbor, named Necto, has a gay night. Friday nights for those who are in the wanting-to-know. Well, back in those days, Necto use to pass out little "care packages" at the end of the night. They had a few condoms, lube--see, ties in!--and a info packet on AIDS/HIV prevention. And I use to frequent this club. Anyway.

So, back to my dorm room. So, in a moment of what I thought was glory, I grab one of these little ID Lube packets out of the baggy, tear it open and.... "apply." Not moments later, gf starts screaming, and bolts out of bed, and into my shared-suite bathroom! And jumps in the shower, while now yelling something about burning. I, of course, follow with a mixture of confusion and amusement. Yes, this is the day we found out gf was allergic to ID Lube. And about the time I should have known the relationship wasn't gunna work out.... as she was crying in the shower, and I was laying on the floor, also crying... but mine was from laughter.

When she got out of the shower, she was still complaining how it was still burning... oh, and to stop laughing because it wasn't funny. Between choking back the giggles, I told her that maybe lotion would help. She agrees, applys.... pause.... and then starts screaming again, and jumps back in the shower. It was pretty much all over for me at this point.

Years later, it is still one of the funniest things I have ever been involved in. Oh, did I mention we broke up?

Thank you so much to my friends that read this, and those who have been bugging me to start writing again. I'm gunna make a solid effort to keep moving forward with this.

Please, post story requests. @Allen, don't worry... DEMF story is coming. Gotta get the people in first, ;-)

So, in closing, one last thing.... I'm a blonde now!

This was taken on my way to work today.... look how rad it looks!
Next post, I'll tell y'all about how awesome my job is.

Peace out,

L

It's a Bloggy-blog World.... blog.

Hi everyone.

Long weekend of work in the world of retail. No one got punched in the face, but I would be lying if it wasn't an almost event. I was planning on posting some ex stories, but it seems fitting to drop a few old-job ones. So here we go!

Once upon a time, in a magically land in the thumb of Michigan, there is a place, caught in a 1950's time warp. Well, I should actually say, a morals of 1950's time warp. Hell for a kid like me. Ya know, not cookie cuttered... but I'm getting off topic. Well, in this town of Marysille, there was an Indian cuisine restaurant, and a 16 year old me. I got a job as a bus "boi" in the summer before my Junior year of high school. What a joke it was. The entire staff was two Indian brothers--who's family owned the place--two cooks, one bread guy, a dish washer, two other girls as hosts and me, the busser. All I did was clean, and then hide from the public eye or the headwaiter. I feel that as my $5.15 an hour wage, and no tips, that it was all the service I would preform. It was also around this time, that I realized I'm kind of a perfectionist and take too much upon myself in a work place, because eventually I was a host, bus, order taker-and-runner, phone answer and a cashier... on top of being kitchen staff and cleaning everything.

Oh, and punching bag. I should explain a little before going on, back in 2002, I was super butch, kind of looked like a little boy, flaming dyke. I'll try and find picture proof for later posts. For now, just trust me with this tid-bit of Lori trivia: When I got my driver's permit, it had me listed as male. Yes, *that* is how much I looked like a boy.Ok, moving on.

Well, the head waiter/manager/owner use to treat me like a guy. And would try and get me to cuss and rough house with him. Even at times shoving me into the door of the walk-in cooler, or when I'd go in the cooler, leaning against the door so I couldn't get out. I think he was just trying to get a rise out of me, but I just ignored him and would go back to doing whatever it was I was occupying myself with. He's lucky he never got a rise out of me. I had a pretty short temper around that time in my life, and was in great shape from my high school activities, and weight training. Oh, that and I probably could have sued the hell out of them because I was a minor. Hindsight.

Other than the abuse, this job turned out to be one of the funniest turn-of-events I can recall. Other than spending hours folding cloth napkins into Pope hats, I had the store level of a text-message-break-up!

Thanksgiving 2002. I'd called off my shift the Tuesday before.. lies, my mom called me off sick the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, but I'd had my set schedule and a confirmed posting of two weeks out, so it was no big deal. They told my mom no problem, and they'd see me the next week. Next week came, I got all dolled up in my black dress pants, and white button down shirt uniform, and headed to work. But, oddly, the kitchen door was locked. Bastards. So, breaking the rules I must note, walked to the front of the restaurant to go in the main doors. Locked. I waited another 10 minutes, and then took off for home, assuming they were taking a long weekend, and forgot to tell me. Next shift, same thing. shift after that, same thing. and then I got to the end of my known shifts, and would just do drive by's on my lunch hour to see if the store was open. Two more weeks go by, and I get a letter in the mail, with a check and a note that says, "Thanks for all your help." Yes, yes indeed. I had a store close on me, and then not tell me they were doing so. I'm glad I got my last check and at least a little bit of a bonus. Still, funny as hell... now.

That was my only job in high school. So my senior year was completely open for antics, and yes, I filled them with just that.

Since then, I've had a few other jobs: stint as a news columnist, video clerk, waitress, retail. All filled with their stories of hilarity. But I won't bore y'all with them now. There is plenty of time for those stories.

So, for the time being, I just want to thank everyone for the support and please keep reading!

L

Thick as Thieves

WOW! Thanks everyone for such awesome early support!!!!

Five followers strong!!!! Much kudos to my lovely, lovely friends.... now, make your friends read it :-)

I've had my first story request from my long time friend Allen... who's name, I might add, will come up many times, and mostly in the most outrageous stories. If you know him, you understand. But for those of you who don't, here's a little background on our tempestuous relationship.

Allen and I have been known of each other since junior high, and have been bestie since high school... so something like 10 years now.. He's one of the first gay friends I've ever had. And in turn, one of the first to know of my own greedy persuasions, or should I say my somewhere in the middle lying on the Kinsey scale? Ok, ok... you've dragged it out of me... I'm kind of a screaming queen, bleeding heart liberal, bisexual. Not always how I saw myself, but that is a story for another time.

At a time in high school, the rumor was that Allen and I were dating. Or screwing? I'm not sure if there is a difference anymore. Mostly because we had such high affection for each other, and we still do. He's my favorite person to be a crying drunk with. Anyway, we always found the whole idea completely hilarious, and would play it up as much as possible. We'd even gone as far as to stage a big hallway kiss in front of a lot of people, just to confuse them for our own amusement... it worked. It's funny now, how in one breath people would call me a slut for hanging around all these boys, because--of course--I was sleeping with all of them, and then in the next breath be called a dyke. Anyone else see the controversy in their ideas? I should mention, most of the boys I was spending time with, including Allen, were homosexual males. Whoops. I digress.

So yes, other than messing with my mind of our classmates, him and I have always had a knack for getting into a lot of trouble. But, thankfully, we have each other's backs when it needs to happen... like the time I got alcohol poisoning! He kept a good eye on me that night while I puked my guts up and floated in-and-out of consciousness. I even ended up throwing up out the window of his car going down the highway. Now, I should also mention, we--myself, and the two passangers in the backseat--told him we needed to pull over, but he just kept driving, as I the car speed down the road at something like 50mph. Viscosity in an active practice. One of my finer moments, of course.

Now, keep in mind, those are just high school shenanigans... we've gotten better like a fine wine with age... or maybe fomented like apple cider?

He's also the boy that has laid claims on my uterus to bare him spawn of his own. It was an interesting day in 10th grade when he walked by, poked me in the uteral area, and proclaimed, "Mine." before being on his way. We'll see how that pans out.

So, back to why I have given a small background on my dear friend, he has made a story request that I'm not sure if I'm ready to tell yet. I believe I need to prepare my adoring fans before it can come to be. I need to mention at this point in time, that I use to be a bad girl. And I don't mean the cute kind of way. I mean, party hard and then party harder the next day kind of girl. I have a past, and I am not ashamed to tell the world about it. I have quite a few life experiences that most 25 year olds do not... or for that matter, life experiences that most people will never have. Mostly involving substance abuse, and drag queens.

So, forewarning, that there are some stories that though are pretty funny in nature, they were pretty dangerous at the time, and I'm very lucky to be alive still. Again, more stories to get into for that.

But for now, this cripple needs to wash her hair, and then head to bed for a full day at work tomorrow. I'm not going to try and encore copyright issues so lets just say I work in retail for now.


Thank you again for reading, please comment and or let me know if there's something you think I should talk about!!!

Much love,
L

Woo! We're number 2!

Hi people... person.... empty space?

So here's my first real post. Well, kind of. Mostly a picture account of how tragically!hilarious my life is.

February 23, I was feeling pretty slick in my hipster attire, playing with the fx camera on my Evo, and this bad ass picture was born:

Slick, right? Ok, I kind of look like a douchebag. Hey, I thought I looked cool. It doesn't happen often.

So, I finish out my day, with my jeegings, and Sex Pistols shirt and head up to my mom's house as I'm having shoulder surgery the next day.

February 24th... not 24 hours after the about picture was taken:

Pause for laughter.... oh, how the mighty fall. And they fall *hard*

Oh yes, that is me, stoned out of my mind, post-rotator cuff surgery. I believe "hit" is the word that you are looking for. So yes, I am still in the arm brace. Eight more days, and then I'm thinking about lighting it on fire or letting my dog use it as a chew toy. Speaking of my dog, she's a beautiful 15 pound Bichon Frise, who might actually be a hound from hell, and I her master, Damien. Bellow, one of the 3000 pictures I will be posting of her.

About two seconds after this awwww-inspiring picture was taken of her laying across my lap, she dropped a Hiroshima size dirty bomb fart on me, got up, and left. Where I, the cripple in an arm brace, was stuck. Thanks Isabella, love you too.

That's it for now,
L

Woo! We're number 1!

Well, here we go.

I guess for starters I should thank the 2 people I've forced to start reading this little adventure of mine. No, one of them is not my mother.

Second, I guess I should introduce myself:
My name is Lori A Hobson, and per the advice of my counselor, here's my very true, very real account of the my life. Some things are going to be hilarious, most will be random. Heaven forbid there be something pensive.

Now is about the time that I should mention, strange things seems to often find their way onto my path. And I mean, to the degree that I doubt that most people believe me. Like the time I missed my connecting flight because a gentleman was being arrested off the plane I needed to get on. Or when helping a friend find a place to live in SoCal, we ended up at Doctor Dolittle's house out on Mulholland Drive. Having a grown man telling you to "mind the claws" while walking across his tiger skin rug is one thing... there actually being claws to mind is quite the other.

So, with the prodding of my friends for topics and stories I should tell I hope that everyone who comes across this on their own, or from my forcing will at least get a good laugh on my expense.

Enjoy the hilarity,
L