![- Haven’t mastered the art of working retail and making art.
- You have. You’re good.
- The increasingly worrisome lack of art-making is partially due to the wide and vast spectrum of my fellow employees at what shall hereforth be referred to as the Sex Shoppe (the copywriting skills died at sexyland).
- Also, juggling day shifts with 3rd shifts takes some acclimation. Still haven’t figured out how people can come home after a late shift and retire to bed within one or six hours. Stupid birds.
- I started a new encaustic painting today. That felt great.
- As much as I love dopamine, it makes a shitty brain-focus neurotransmitter.
- My name is Libby, and I am a multifaceted binge addict. (thanks, jami.) Total shocker, aye?
- Do you give a shit about reading blaag posts about addiction? Feels very 80’s All-A-Non, though I’m prepared to overshare.
- There’s a guy who manages one of the Sex Shoppes, and - -
- Oh, wait. I should mention that the Sex Shoppe has two retail locations in Durham. Sometimes I work at both. The other one shall hereforth be referred to as the CL&CL Sex Shoppe (Couples, Lesbians and Convenient Location).
- Apologies that my flexible straightness doesn’t really care about politically corrected gender/whatever acronyms. I am a nice dude, though.
- Anyway, the guy who (honestly) manages the Sex Shoppe is amazing. Working with him is like working at my fantasy Craigslist Themepark. This is not a verbatim dialogue:
Me: So I hear you’re vastly overeducated.
Him: [loud smile]
Me: What, social work?
Him: Yes. Though I’ve done more of that in this store than anywhere else.
- He is correct. My cold, cold heart is already 2% defrosted.
- I’m trying to figure out how to blaag about this job - which is actual-work-friendlier than Sexyland, but also a large lesson in various forms of common sense - without violating the boundaries of the company, its staff and our customers.
[aside: posting crap about art-making is awful for your traffic stats. folks who pretend they don’t care are lying and crying along with the rest of us from blogger 2004.]
- Oh my god. The customers. Whatever stereotypes you might have in your head would be destroyed in about five minutes. I fucking love that shit.
- Bear with me, here. We all need each other, us lonely motherfuckers. I’ll figure out how to make art, work this job, blog about it and go back to [updated art skool advice towards the bottom] at some soon point.
- I used to never bruise.
- Stupid twitter.](http://9.media.tumblr.com/kfibP3zrMpbt4lynuYEXFebXo1_400.jpg)
- Haven’t mastered the art of working retail and making art.
- You have. You’re good.
- The increasingly worrisome lack of art-making is partially due to the wide and vast spectrum of my fellow employees at what shall hereforth be referred to as the Sex Shoppe (the copywriting skills died at sexyland).
- Also, juggling day shifts with 3rd shifts takes some acclimation. Still haven’t figured out how people can come home after a late shift and retire to bed within one or six hours. Stupid birds.
- I started a new encaustic painting today. That felt great.
- As much as I love dopamine, it makes a shitty brain-focus neurotransmitter.
- My name is Libby, and I am a multifaceted binge addict. (thanks, jami.) Total shocker, aye?
- Do you give a shit about reading blaag posts about addiction? Feels very 80’s All-A-Non, though I’m prepared to overshare.
- There’s a guy who manages one of the Sex Shoppes, and - -
- Oh, wait. I should mention that the Sex Shoppe has two retail locations in Durham. Sometimes I work at both. The other one shall hereforth be referred to as the CL&CL Sex Shoppe (Couples, Lesbians and Convenient Location).
- Apologies that my flexible straightness doesn’t really care about politically corrected gender/whatever acronyms. I am a nice dude, though.
- Anyway, the guy who (honestly) manages the Sex Shoppe is amazing. Working with him is like working at my fantasy Craigslist Themepark. This is not a verbatim dialogue:
Me: So I hear you’re vastly overeducated.
Him: [loud smile]
Me: What, social work?
Him: Yes. Though I’ve done more of that in this store than anywhere else.
- He is correct. My cold, cold heart is already 2% defrosted.
- I’m trying to figure out how to blaag about this job - which is actual-work-friendlier than Sexyland, but also a large lesson in various forms of common sense - without violating the boundaries of the company, its staff and our customers.
[aside: posting crap about art-making is awful for your traffic stats. folks who pretend they don’t care are lying and crying along with the rest of us from blogger 2004.]
- Oh my god. The customers. Whatever stereotypes you might have in your head would be destroyed in about five minutes. I fucking love that shit.
- Bear with me, here. We all need each other, us lonely motherfuckers. I’ll figure out how to make art, work this job, blog about it and go back to [updated art skool advice towards the bottom] at some soon point.
- I used to never bruise.
- Stupid twitter.
