Greeks and Retail: A guideline

You know why this country is knee-deep in shit? Well, first of all, the Germans, but also because as a folk they can be and often are, and I think this is the official, scientific term for it, bastards. Otherwise lovely people, Greeks tend to have no respect whatsoever for one another, simply put, they don't give a tiny rats ass about anyone but themselves. I'm sure there are of course exceptions to this (including myself and six people I know and actually don't hate) but I'm addressing this as a national issue. There is even a saying in Greek which is roughly translated to "as long as I'm okay, let the neighbour's goat die". His goat! I mean what kind of monster would be okay with watching the goat next-door die?
Today based on my intimate knowledge on the subject I examine one simple example of how much people here don't give a shit about their fellow human-being. Case in hand: retail. Now, I know what you're going to say. The perils of working retail are pretty much the same wherever you are. Sure, which is why the following series of guidelines should be considered not only the documentation of my personal hell but also as international rules for a better shopping experience. I do live and work in Greece, a country in a recession so bad we had to have capital controls inforced, and people are still out shopping. So let me sing you the song of my people.
Customers. Now, I'm sure that in your everyday lives some of you are most likely half-decent people, it's just that as customers, and I'm sorry to have to break it to you, you suck.
Number one: You are not always right. Never have, never will.
Number two: I'm inclined to be polite but I will not be as efficient if I'm dealing with someone who is not. Take your attitude somewhere else.
Number three: This one makes my whole case. I am here all day long, you have all day long to "swing by". Closing time is definite and non-negotiable. As someone who I assume works for a living, don't you just hate it when someone makes you stay after hours? So do I. Apparently people quite blatantly don't give a shit about this. This is not acceptable.
Number four: Neither is the excuse "I just finished work". And you have to keep me longer at mine?Why?
Number five: Using the excuse "I just got back from vacation" instead of "I just finished work" only makes the situation worse for you. I am now legally allowed to bitch slap you.
Number six: When you see me near the door, holding my purse, at 9 p.m don't ask if I'm closing. Ask how YOU can help ME close faster. The answer to this will always be: by quietly fucking off.
Number seven: If, by some cruel fate you have beaten me at my own game and got me to stay past closing time... congrats you have won this time. However I am not obligated to stay after hours. Your cunning ways may have deceived me but I am not your servant, stop acting like it. Show some goddamn respect.
Number eight: It's August. Yes, I'm tired and hot and I'd rather be at the beach or literally anywhere else, alas I am here and so are you. Stop asking.
Number nine: If you have a child keep it under control. This is a jewellery store not some futuristic, glass peting-zoo. Stop touching my windows.
Number ten: There used to be another store here, which clearly isn't here anymore. Obviously I don't know where it's moved to or if it still exists because a. I'm not the yellow pages b. my job requirements don't include keeping track of previous owners. Stop being offended by this. It's weird.

Bonus: And this is true! I cannot believe I have to say this out loud or even reiterate in my head after I've heard it but... in case it isn't obvious by all the jewellery this is NOT a flower shop and I am most definitely NOT a florist. Our flowers you were admiring outside are purely decorative and most notably fake! As in plastic. As in if I were a florist I would not be selling fake flowers. It's unfathomable that you need an explanation for this.

And there you have it! Until next time, keep your crazy at bay. x

How I stopped being afraid

Written at work, Thursday, 9:30 am, slightly hangover.
For the past few months I've been living in fear. Not actual fear but a numbing, moat-y feeling which I guess can only be described as fear. Fear of writing and being in that vunerable, open place in my mind. The last time I wrote anything that wasn't work related, apart from my witty Facebook statuses (my mom thinks they're funny, so, so should you)? I think it was March, because it was still chilly and I was unemployed. At that point I took my dad's advice of going back to University and being miserable and did the exact opposite, as you do. I got a job which, funny story, I was afraid to get and afraid to start. I started supporting myself and paying my bills on time, queue, intense fear. My job at a jewellery store turned out better than expected and my bosses are actually decent people, when they aren't taking advantage of my kindness and mad skills. Shortly thereafter I signed up for e-learning writing classes which I was scared I wasn't going to be excepted to and when I did afraid to deal with it because I felt I'd fail. And somewhere in all of this, everything else stopped. I don't mean relationships, friends, nights out. I mean I started being a lot more afraid instead of less. I stopped being creative in the ways I was before. I was tired and felt spent. All I talked about was work. My boss is now on leave for the entire month of August and it's just me and the Internet here at work all day, everyday. Oh, and the crazy customers who show up at precisely 21:00 p.m, or as I like to call it the  time I should be on my way home but am not, because well, people. Yes, I'm exhausted, but more than that I've managed, by choice,to trap myself in a situation where work has devoured my life. I suppose  it's easier to whine about work related issues and stress than to have a crack at what is actually bothering me. Sure I could be doing other things as well but I'm too afraid to do them. Why? I'm not telling you, reader, I'm asking you. Why? Even at my most complacent, I still managed to create something. I was broke but I wasn't afraid. I was sad, but not scared. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, but doing nothing at all wasn't an option. Last night I was afraid to open an email (gasp)! That's right. I was afraid to stay up late with friends because I had to wake up early. Right now I fear I'm becoming repetitive. My point is, my friend wasn't entirely wrong when he said I was becoming an old lady. My boyfriend, who convinced me to open that email, isn't wrong when he says I can do anything I set my mind to. He also says I'm pretty and an amazing lover and he makes me breakfast on Sundays, which has nothing to do with what I was saying but I just wanted to point out how wonderful my boyfriend is(and I don't want him to think I never write anything about him, so there). My other friend wasn't wrong when she told me to grow some balls( a mission harder than most, since I am in fact a woman). She said "you used to have balls", cause apparently this conversation is turning into some strange reverse Bruce Jenner situation, I don't know what she's talking about anymore. And I do kinda wish I had gone to bed earlier, or my head would be thanking me instead of throwing a tantrum like some spoiled teenager from the Valley, but nevertheless I'm glad I did. I felt a little less old lady and more like grown ass adult. This revelation of course came after half a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc(the second half) while watching Bachelor in Paradise(it isn't shamefull if you don't do it alone) so I don't know if it counts as an epiphany.

"How I stopped being afraid" might seem a bit severe, it's more like "how I paused being afraid in order to write this and I'm pretty sure I'll keep being afraid
but at least now you all get to hear about it".