DIARY OF A SHOP GIRL IN THE LEAD UP TO CHRISTMAS

Dear Diary,

I know I once tried to pinch a pancake, (I was five) but does my failed heist and a few overdue library books warrant this cruelty?

Image Via: mrepriss.com 

(Britney totally gets me)

My face hurts from smiling. People confuse my crying with laughing. I worry that when I finally regain control over my face, like a sick joke, gravity will have it's way and I'll be left resembling a pitt bull.

Isn't it ironic that the more I say 'Merry Christmas', filled with good tidings and ya da ya da ya da, the stronger the urge to scream/punch something grows. I'll just take it out whilst carving the turkey… 

Such a shame that there's no alcohol consumption allowed on the shop floor… 

Yesterday I discovered that the word sale now brings on a fit. It passed quite quickly - after they picked me up off the floor that is. Slightly concerned about the twitch I'm left with. Hopefully it'll be gone by next Christmas.

"Do I work here?" Is that what you just asked me?! Please walk away because I can't answer that question without swearing.

Don't look me directly in the eye, I cannot control what they will convey to you.

You know the cling film over the toilet bowl trick? Well I'm considering employing that method on all items of stock in a bid to reinforce the old (& oft ignored) adage: 'Look but don't touch'. Either that or install tiny tasers on everything. I can't see it being a problem with security or anything… 

Please just pay the five pence charge for the carrier bag. Forget about being environmentally conscious and be aware of your own personal safety, because I will staple it to your forehead if you do not move along. 

DO NOT laugh as you destroy the neat piles of clothing that I have spent hours of my life folding. Your walking stick doesn't fool me. This is a clear act of hooliganism.

Then today something happened. A customer handed me a Christmas card and just like the Grinch, my heart grew two sizes. Life changing wouldn't be too far a stretch. Then I zoned back to reality; children were roaring, the florescent lights were blinding and a woman was stood before me trying to return a pair of shoes because they gave her blisters. 

Yes this is my life. I had no words.

I still have no words. 

Help! Ahem, sorry, I mean 'Merry Christmas'!!