11.12.01
I hereby propose a moratorium on catastrophic events happening in, on, near, by, above, or anywhere around New York City.
For God's sake, already.
And I wish I would quit catching disastrous events as they unfold across my television screen in the early morning, because it colors my whole day a vivid shade of morose.
They spent all morning moving and unpacking intimate apparel, and yes, it looked lovely. It also cut off any stroller/walker/wheelchair access that we had from the salon to the outside world, or vice versa. I don't really care about anyone in the need of any of those vehicles coming into the salon, because I am a cruel and heartless person, but I do have to work with the Grand Poobah of complaining about rack placement and how it violates state law, which I do care about. That woman already rides my ass about enough stuff, and I don't need her giving me the grief about any more shit that I didn't do, too.
The assistant store manager, and the store manager, and the visual manager, and all of the lovely people involved in the moving and unpacking were standing there admiring the handiwork as though they were witnessing the glory and the light of Baby Jesus in the damned manger, when the store manager exclaimed, "It all looks so wonderful! You guys did a wonderful job!"
And, of course, I happened to be walking swiftly past, just as this exclamation was made.
And, of course, I muttered to myself, and perhaps in the general earshot of the assistant store manager, "Yeah, but now it isn't particularly wheel-chair accessible, either." and continued along my way.
I had no intention of pissing anyone off, or hurting anyone's feelings with the big scary truth. I am not even sure I meant myself to be heard, although perhaps on some unconscious level I did mean just that.
Hey, you deal with the Overlord on a near-daily basis.
Returning from my brief trip to the office, I was stopped by the store manager, en route to the salon.
She blocked my path, and asserted, "As a matter of fact, you guys have more room than you did before."
I wasn't really in the mood, but I sighed and explained passionlessly, 'Well, it doesn't look like it. I had to turn sideways to get through the racks, and I didn't before.'
Apparently, my explanation ruffled her feathers. Her voice rising slightly, and her posture becoming aggressive, she countered with, "You know, we all have to work together in this store."
I slouched down a little and shrugged. 'I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a little upset because 255 people just died.'
She popped up ramrod straight, teeth gritted, and said very, very loudly, "Well, that doesn't give you any right to yell at any of my associates!"
I shrugged again and walked around her. 'Whatever.'
Shortly thereafter, Carol arrived at work, exclaiming, "I see they moved the racks again! How do they expect people to get into the damned salon?"
I told her that it was being addressed, and she would probably be hearing soon about how I wasn't a team player and was probably a vile snot. I also told her the story in vivid detail.
You see, this isn't my first bizarre, blown-out-of-proportion run-in with the store manager, and I'm not the only one working in the salon that's had an incident like this with store management. To be honest, I could make shit up, and Carol would believe it, if it was negative enough about people she isn't terribly lovey towards or about. Fortunately, I've got credibility, and I earn my keep in the store.
It has got to hurt to sign on to a store that suddenly and quite steadily declines in business volume under your management. There's got to be all sort of horrific pressures associated with being a splendid example of what failure looks like. I'm sure upper upper management is riding her ass for not meeting goals, for being unable to consistently maintain staff, and for sucking in general.
It is thoughts like these that warm the cockles of my heart.
However, maintaining the pretense of stress-free normalcy is tough all day, and actually impossible in a decent yoga session. By the end of class, instead of managing to 'keep it together just keep it together focus focus keep it together,' I lost it, and was reduced to a blubbering, quivering, and snuffling human sprinkler system.
The only thing more embarassing than breaking down and crying uncontrollably in yoga, is the teacher's predilection for using incidents and situations as examples of what yoga can do, and how people shouldn't judge or mock people's responses to yogic stimulation.
Sure, it was kind of funny when that girl fell asleep during Shavasana (cool-down and centering after yoga poses), and it allowed Lea to point out that people respond and react differently to a good yoga session. Some people calm down so much and release so much that they fall asleep. She was asleep, she had no idea that she was an example.
She wasn't embarassed and sobbing uncontrollably, while people shifted uncomfortably around her in a gigantic circle, talking about how their energy levels were doing and what poses they liked/disliked.
Something about karma, I'm sure.
