Tuesday, March 24, 2009

life in the tanning world

I am getting married in eighteen days. Now I have been counting down to this since day 104 or so. The nineties took ages and the forties took decades, but quite frankly, the thirties and twenties went by without me even noticing!!! I am getting married in two and a half weeks and couldn’t be happier!

We had our first “get together” at our apartment with TK’s best man, Jeff, and his girlfriend, Amber just a few nights ago. We watched Lakeview Terrace (weird movie) and ate tons of junk food before I fell asleep on the recliner and they played the wii. It was so incredibly exciting to think that that is OUR apartment and in just a FEW weeks, we will be moving in and, after the honeymoon, LIVING there!! Now if I could just get that boy to carry his keys!! Hahaha

So, we are getting a second car on Wednesday, (tomorrow). Ok fine, TK is getting a car tomorrow, but I get to drive it!! – Every once in a while? I hope? Maybe? Well, I’ll work on it… But its going to be so nice to not have to drive a million directions every which way and it will free up some time where we can just relax and enjoy each other a little more.

So as some of you know, during the days, I work at a tanning salon. I know, I know, “Jillian?!?! “Blinded by the white, pasty legs? Working at a salon? Noooooo….” But it is true, I do, and yes, I am still white. ANYWHO. The salon. So I work in Highland and if ANYONE knows Highland or Alpine, you would know that they are sister cities and probably have the snobbiest inhabitants in Utah County. Seriously. These people are rude and just have money to burn. And these are the people I have to put up with everyday. Either they have so much money that they really think that they are better than anyone that DIDN’T buy their main form of transportation from an Air Force base OR they have so much money that they really are as stupid as they look.

EXAMPLES?! Oh. I got some for each.

STUPID = Ok, so this isn’t exactly a story about a customer so much as a girl who was inquiring about an open position. This Barbie wannabe steps out of her daddy’s Mercedes and proceeds toward the salon. Her hair had been bleached beyond recognition and she had to have use pliers to button her jeans. And on top of all of this she was ATTEPTING to walk in heels that were taller than her face, if this is possible. SO! She’s walking toward the salon, and I kid you not people, she had to stop at the door to read the sign to figure out whether she was to push or pull. Not that her stopping to acknowledge the sign could have possibly worked seeing as how she clearly could not comprehend the characters posted for she did push when in fact the sign said pull.
After defeating the large metal door that had put forth one hell of a fight, she proceeded into my lobby, came forth to my desk, and smiled. Now I know you are thinking, ‘Jillian! C’mon, she’s a sweet girl who has a few issues and she smiled at you, so be nice!!’ But no folks, she didn’t just smile at me, she was practically in a trance, you know, a half-conscious state characterized by an absence of response to external stimuli. I mean, given, this was probably a very common state for her but geeze! did she really have to start drooling on my counter?!

I asked her what her last name was so that I could pull up her account and then it happened. She opened her mouth and began to produce words! Now this HAD to have been a big day for her and don’t worry folks! I was sure to get her address so that I could send her a copy of the security tapes so that one day she could share her big day with her grandchildren, but I digress.

She asked if I knew whether we were hiring or not. I kindly informed her that we were not; however, we WERE always accepting résumés . She stood there in awe, processing the noises that just protruded from my lips. After all of thirty seconds, she goes “ohhhhh, ok. Well can I get one of those?” I smiled. How could I not? And told her that she could bring in a résumé and we would keep it until we were hiring, and then it would be reviewed and if decided, she would get a call.

Oh. You guessed it! No, she did NOT follow what I was trying to say. She requested, yet again, for me to give her a résumé. I then had to tell her that she had to make a résumé and bring it in. She pondered. Forty-five seconds later came the words, “So you don’t have one that I can just fill out?” Now come on you guys, this is just mean. I mean, TK? Did YOU send her in?! Maybe Afton sent her in to test me. But I wasn’t going to fail. I responded with “No, a résumé is something you make on your own that shows you previous work experience and why someone should hire you.” More pondering occurred. “oh so like, it’s an essay?” (you know you’d kill this girl if you had the chance.. but the security cameras I mentioned previously were pointed RIGHT at me. Stupid technology—“keeping you from murdering stupid people who will inevitably breed and bring forth MORE stupid people”-quotation courtesy of TK Sheppard).

“No, its more like a list. There are even computer programs that will help you do it.” I thought this helped when she said “Oh! Ok, well thank you!” But no, she stayed, motionless, smiling still. And when I gave her that “what the crap are you looking at glare” she asked “So do you need work experience for it?” I snapped. I told her you made a résumé out of your background and work experience and that if she didn’t have any then she probably wouldn’t be able to make a very good résumé, especially considering that I could only imagine how hard “Kiki” would be to spell so you’d probably just end up giving me a blank piece of paper.

Alright fine, so I didn’t say that. I just smiled back at her and told her whatever she had I’m sure would be lovely and wished her a wonderful day and good luck with her job search.

--I swear, if I get a “résumé” from this chick I’ll use it to start a bon-fire on that bleached blonde wig she was wearing and video tape her running around screaming for dear life.

RUDE = Ok so the other night I got a call from one of my co-workers. Her name is Ashley. Ashley is 16, Mormon, and probably one of the sweetest little girls ever. So she calls me and was crying. Apparently, some “bia” of a woman came in during the rush. She had a lobby full of customers waiting for beds as well as a line out the door. Well this female waltzes in on her broomstick, ((given, she wasn’t REALLY on a broomstick that was VISIBLE on a count of it was shoved so far up her butt, but I digress)) passing everyone else and interrupts Ashley to request a tanning bed. Ashley asked her to hold on one moment and continued to assist the customer that had actually stood in line and waited for his turn. Well this was not ok with the ill-mannered shrew. She proceeded to interrupt Ashley as she was trying to stay professional. Finally this self-absorbed she-devil shouted her name at Ashley and proceeded into a room of her choosing and slammed the door. Ashley, dumbstruck, looked up her name and set the timer on the chosen bed.
After the peaceful twenty minutes had elapsed, the malicious woman emerged again to interrupt yet ANOTHER customer. She demanded that the owner was to be called and the phone passed so that she could express her contempt for Ashley and the way in which she treated her.
Upon Afton (the owner of the salon) answering her cell phone, the she-devil went off. Yelling at her about how “it is inappropriate to hire family (Even though Ashley is far from being related to Afton) and that such an arrangement had to have been the only reason that such an inconsiderate and neglecting employee could not only be hired, but left on the payroll. And that she was appalled at the way in which she had been treated and that Ashley would be so unprofessional as to carry on a conversation with a possible “gentleman caller” instead of tending to loyal, and not to mention, highly paying customers.”
Well. After exchanging so many words, oh, pardon me, exchanging implies that there was some give as well as some take, umm lets see, after “bitching Afton’s ear off” for all of about 15 minutes, she stated that she was never planning to return to such an unpleasant establishment. Well. If anyone knows Afton, ((and trust me, I’m learning more day by day, and KICKING myself for missing it)) this was her green light. In that milli-second in which the wretched customer took a breath, Afton had already held her down, neck deep in her own cow’s dung that she and been piling up since the moment she entered the salon (and by cow I mean the she-devil woman). She went off about how “the last thing her pruned self needed was to be exposed to UV rays of any kind. After all, what is the point in getting all tanned up to look at yourself in a mirror when you step out of the shower before bed and then going and crying yourself to sleep because we all know that that is the only time in which a pair of eyes ACTUALLY glance upon your ugly trash. And I know, I know, ever since that one night at your thirtieth high reunion when Eugine, the captain of chess team year ‘77 took you behind the bleachers after you were both too drunk to see, you just keep waiting for that day that he’ll realize that you really haven’t changed that much since the days of you paying him to do your science homework but see, that was three years ago and he must have lost your number when he wiped his own butt with it while laughing, yes at your expense, so why don’t you just suck it up and move on. Oh, and if you ever think about stopping in for a tan at my salon again, I will be sure that the canopy doesn’t pop back up.”

So basically, long story short. I worship my boss. End of story. Oh and I hate my job.

1 comment:

  1. Love reading your blog! Can't wait to see you in less than a week!!!! LOVE YOU!


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