I just got a job at a fireworks stand and I’m not entirely sure how to feel about it. I really need to work and I have managed to make it through high school without a source of income more steady than the scraps of cash I get from babysitting. It’s not as though I haven’t put forth the effort. I applied to a dozen places over the past year and for some reason, no word. I become easily irritated when my peers discuss their schedules 100% of the time, to which they respond, “Oh please, if you had a job, you’d be right here with us.”
On a semi-unrelated note: I despise those that say I hate Valentine’s Day solely because I’m single and I hate it that the only other topic of discussion my friends seem capable of processing is college. Where are you going? Oh my gosh! All these people are going to school with me! I can’t wait to do my scheduling. I did my scheduling, but I have to make a bunch of changes and I don’t want to talk about it; but I’m going to anyway. Now that my scheduling’s done, and I know who I’m rooming with, we’re going to list everything we have to buy while we ignore the fact that Emily’s the only person at the whole table NOT going to the same school as us!
Perhaps I should be more excited about this next chapter of my life, but for some reason I’m a little wary of my collegiate adventures. Anyway, I pretty much only got this job because they’re desperate. At least that’s what one of the supervisors told me.
Among the many factors I have to brave in order to reach my paycheck is the sun. I will be hot and sweaty and my skin will turn tomato red just as it begins to peel away from my shoulders and cheeks. Supposedly I will be under a tent and I won’t have to worry so much about the devil sun, but with my luck I’ll still end up shedding several layers of crispy flesh.
I’ll also have to deal with people. Yes, it is true that most jobs entail dealing with customers, but it is especially awful here. In my hometown, I get to face rednecks in flip flops and tattered jean shorts- and that’s just the men. I also have to endure their fohawked offspring and their grubby little fingers trying to swipe some pocket-sized merchandise.
On top of that, my bosses are quite difficult. The pushy old grump that runs the stand is always trying to force his political agenda on impressionable youths. He seems to be unconscious of what is the appropriate time or place for expressing his opinions and he and I happen to disagree on almost everything. I’m a firm believer in sticking up for what you believe in and I don’t really want to be fired for debating gay rights with my boss.
His second in command is an overzealous power-thirster. She secretly wants to end him and take his position, but she knows that if she did he would only be replaced by an outsider. While she is a lot more helpful and a lot less egotistical, she can be a little overbearing. Hopefully I can find an ally in her nonetheless.
In addition to these forces working against me, I have to somehow find a way to further suppress my own increasing desire to light everything on fire. One should not invite pyromania to a tent filled with lousy combustibles.