Preparing For Stupid

It may seem harsh to call other people stupid, and even politically incorrect (if that is still a thing), but I am heading into the devil’s den of dumbness today as I prepare for another workday in the crazy world of retail.

With Christmas approaching fast, the Electronics Department has been busy selling lots of expensive items, such as TVs, gaming systems, and, of course, phones.

Sales make the retail world spin pretty fast and make CEOs awfully giddy with joy. So why would an assistant manager want to take customer service away from that department and have them fluffing towels, rearranging pens and pencils, and stacking cans of pet food, instead of helping the customers still shopping for the latest electronics gadget and its accessories?

It doesn’t make sense, which has me shaking my head and wondering why a manager would try sabotaging sales at a store that gives her a fairly decent paycheck.

It has my coworkers in that department up in arms. And since I am in their neighboring department, I get to witness their conflict. It’s an uneccessary stituation that only adds stress to an already stressful time of year.

To them I say, Hang in there, care for your customers first and foremost, and perhaps this hiccup of stupidity will pass soon.

Madness [poetry]

Too many people stomping around—
fractured herds mucking the rivers,
the land,
killing the grass.
They think they know when they don’t.

They rode lame in a hot race and wept when their HellCat lost.
Now they cry from twit-faces in their concrete castles filled with Eisenhower plastic,
drowning their DTs in anger
and lamenting that their cultivated habits didn’t make them rich.

Money for the populace is the reason Owners obsess over property and selfhood.
They muck the rivers,
highways,
kill the grass,
and count their dollars made of starvation, suicide, failure, death—
Illusion.

Dusty professors moan that I speak Ginsberg—
a tragedy as big as the smallest positive real number,
while the world riots to muck the rivers…
eating the life from their own butchered bodies
and lamenting that their cultivated habits still don’t make them rich.