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This week I finally started Christmas shopping and realized that I’m pretty much flat broke.  I may have to actually get a job over Christmas break to pay off some bills — which got me thinking about this weeks blog entry.  Over the years I’ve held many job titles, and today I’m going to take the time to reflect over each one of them. 

My first job was being a shoe salesman at JCPenney’s.  I still cringe at the memories of trying to fit middle-aged women for shoes they obviously can’t afford.  The worst part was having to babysit their halfwit kids while they tried to decide if their giant monkey feet could fit into a size 13 sandal.  No, I’m sorry, we’re going to have to special order that for you.  Also, your kid just impaled himself on a $90 pair of stilettos.  Would you like to put that on your JCPenney card? 

Then came Hot Topic.  I hate emo kids, so why not sell them clothes, right?  Wrong.  I hated this job with a passion.  I spent eight hours a day folding shirts and listening to the same three Sublime songs over and over again.  Seriously, I think it’s time to stop playing their music; Brad Nowell died of a heroin overdose over 12 years ago.  I envy him.

Then there was the few months I worked at Giant Food Supermarkets.  As if that wasn’t the biggest crock of bullshit ever.  For some reason they promoted customer friendliness at the monthly meetings.  Honestly, is there a need for that?  Do I really need to greet you with a smile and ask how your day is going when you come through U-Scan at 11 p.m. with a roll of duct tape and six feet of rope?  Oh, you’re paying with cash only?  No surprise there.  And how about the balding 30 year old men who give me attitude when I don’t bag your bundle of roses.  Here’s an idea — why don’t you go home and get back to beating up your fat wife?  We all know that’s the only reason you’re buying these in the first place.  And while you’re at it, why don’t you pick up some aerosol on Bonus Buy, because you smell like a cheap hooker.

Speaking of Giant, I think people are abusing the privilege of the motorized wheelchair carts.  Those are meant for people who have an actual physical ailment.  Being middle-aged and too lazy to walk your fat ass over to the bakery for half a dozen doughnuts is not a physical ailment.  Maybe if you used those tiny chicken legs of yours every once in a while they wouldn’t wobble under the weight of that bloated watermelon you call a head.  And don’t have the nerve to complain to me about raising the price of doughnuts by five cents — we all know you’re going to put them on Food Stamps anyways.

Then came my job at a day care working in the nursery.  A word to all employers: If you explicitly tell me not to do something, I’m obviously going to do it.  God wouldn’t have given babies a “soft spot” unless you were meant to use it.  It’s like natures own little “self destruct” button.  Looks like this time curiosity killed the cat, and the cat’s name was Julian.  R.I.P. little buddy.  I can’t believe I got fired on the first day.

Then came my two week job working for the Messiah College Suicide Hotline.  All I can say is wow, I clearly didn’t understand the job description.  The whole time I thought we were in competition for the high score.  And F.Y.I. Adam Lawton never loses.  This inspired me to go on to become Vanna White’s substitute on Wheel of Fortune.  That’s right boys and girls — sometimes suicide is the answer.

Honestly, I just miss the good ol’ days of selling drugs to fifth graders.  Remember: It’s not technically “dealing” if the currency is Pokemon cards.  That’s right, bitches — I’ve got six Charizards.