Come Thursday, it’ll be November. The older I get, the faster time passes. And, that’s very scary. In less than six months, I will be 31, and have very little to show for myself. I have accomplished nothing of importance and I am dissatisfied with how my life is shaping.
I still work retail. At 30. I always assumed I’d be married and/or with child by now. My career in the arts world would be stable and secure and something I wake up excited to do. But, I’m 30, working 25-30 hours a week at a cosmetics store. When I started there eight years ago with the faint possibility I’d still be working for the company, I naturally assumed I would be working at the corporate office by now. But, I get overlooked, not taken seriously, and stretched thin for a menial amount of money. When I bust my ass to prove that I’m a valuable asset to the company, notice is not taken. Instead, I’m seen as a tight ass mean girl queen bee and the question “what’s wrong?” is always asked. By taking away my class clown persona, people think I am angry and unwilling to do my job. Quite the opposite, my dears. The moment I strip that lazy, “I don’t give a sh*t about this job, so I’m going to act goofy” part of me away and get down to business, I’m in overdrive. I just want to get my job done.
Therefore, I’ve decided to go back to school full time. I will find a new place to work, one of value. I’ll take a pay cut if it means I’m happier going to work. I’ll utilize the school’s work-study program. Retail is not a suitable place for someone who is capable of much more than selling anti-aging creams to ladies who are searching for miracles. Retail is not the place for people who get frustrated when they are told to do three things at once, while other co-workers aren’t expected to do anything but stand there and chat with one another. At 30, I’d rather be told to do three things at once because everyone else are doing five things at once, and the livelihood of the free world depends on me picking up the slack.
I deserve better than this. I deserve a home to call my own. I deserve substantial acclaim for real efforts I have given the world. I deserve the ability to travel for business and pleasure. I deserve satisfaction. And, I’m not going to find it pushing over-priced lipsticks…