I am starting to get the, “I Don’t Care’s,” a little when I think of Project 30. I’m all, who cares if I’m fat?!? Who Cares if I look old? WHO CARES ABOUT ANYTHING? This is a common problem for me and compounded with the fact that I’m PMSing this week/weekend my Project 30 is in real jeopardy. The last thing to suffer from this attitude problem I have was my job.
I took a stay-cation from my grueling retail job back in February. I know there are people with real jobs, real careers that would think, Retail? How hard is that? It’s not, really. Well, retail holidays always made me want to go on a mass murder spree. But generally, retail is time consuming and vapid and wasteful and non-contributive (in the bigger, better sense, you know–for the world…) Maybe I just say that because I was working at a place famous for velour sweatsuits with bedazzled logos and charm bracelets. Maybe I say that because my district manager would revise JFK quotes in her weekly motivational emails to the Northeast district. I’m not kidding… “Ask not what your customer can do for you…but what you can do for your customer…”
So, the very last day of my week-long PTO (personal time off) I was required to participate in a district conference call. If you’re not familiar with retail rally conference calls, go ahead and thank your lucky stars. They open with a round of woohoo’s or yeaaaah’s or yahoooo’s. I usually spend so much of the conference call time fake stabbing my throat with the nearest pointed object that I can never participate.
The last call I “participated” in focused on sales goals and why we weren’t making them and how we could encourage our staff to pump up the energy to meet our goals!!! The district manager said, frankly, “If you are not proving that the goals are achievable and that you CARE about the result, the associates won’t care either.
WOW. I have notoriously been a non-joiner, a cool-cat kid who mocks the over-achievers from the sidelines, the dark humor/wicked sense of humor girl… It is probably because I’m self-conscious and fear failure so I mock those who try. It is also because when I was a kid my grandmother bought me a little book called “Pierre.” I think grandma meant for this cautionary tale to turn things around for me… What it became was my mantra.
I returned to work the next day and I was fired.