We've created a monster

In France, stores and businesses and even restaurants close down at appropriate times and for holidays. People understand this and they just deal with it: they learn to shop when the stores are open, and they learn their lesson if they forget an ingredient--but the world doesn't stop turning! In America, we've "gotta earn that buck" so all doors are open all the time at every season, since we all know that each holiday is a great way to launch a promotion and push consumerism further. Well, my store is no exception. I thank the Lord that Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year's and Easter are still considered somewhat 'holy' enough for our doors to be locked, but over the years things may change. Already, days like Memorial day, Labor day and 4th of July are working holidays and they used to be OFF. I have dear Chris and Corrie who have already committed to not shopping on Sundays, knowing that I can't always attend Church and actively participate in our Christian community. Thanks guys!

So this week I found out that over my 90 day probational period, I earned 13.5 hours of vacation. WHOO HOO. A working day is 7.5, so I almost got two days off. And yes, over the course of one calendar year, that equals roughly one week. ONE WEEK. I thought surely my boss was mistaken. I almost came out with a terribly sarcastic remark that I should just move in then and use the sink water to bathe. Thankfully I held my tongue.

My boss was looking ahead to the year 2010 (a scary number to me--where did 1996 go? wasn't that just the other day?), and realized I had requested a week in September. You know, the one week it took months for 12 adults and 2 children's schedules to agree on, the one week in the rented house in the Outer Banks, the one week it took hours of work and phone calls and emails to make happen? Yeah, that week. Dun dun dun!!! It's a blackout period! Nooooooo!! I almost broke down in tears. I'm thinking: "Are you kidding me?!?! I give you my weekends, my Church days, my holidays, my time that I would spend with both sides of my family, and NOW you're telling me the one vacation that's been finalized is a no-no?!?" Amazingly, the tears held back but my cheeks went hot like fire. He told me not to worry, that I never ask for anything, that he would take care of it and tell the board of executives that I had made that request at the time of hire (which is a lie--how do I feel about this? I don't know!!). I went home mumbling: "They're not keeping me at the store. How dare they! They'll have to fire me before they deny me my ONE vacation. Oh, they don't know who they're messing with. Oh boy. A 'black out period.' Over my dead body."

We looked over the paperwork and realized that every first year employee gets one week of vacation, a two-year employee gets two weeks out of the year, and to earn three weeks... that'll be 8 years of work, please.

I can hear my Dad's voice in my head saying "I told you so" as he reminded me to get all of my questions answered before I said yes to this job (which I didn't). But either way Dad, even if I knew about the 1 week vacation rule, I still think I would've accepted the position because it's better than unemployment and it is everything that I was looking for as a transition job after teaching.
--no homework
--no teenagers
--no annoying parents
--easy-going atmosphere
--people-oriented
--good enough pay
--super close location
--pleasant work: organizing and making things look beautiful again
--more interesting customer base than a regular retail job like "old navy" or "gap" or something
--active and varied
--little emotional stress
--no paper cuts

So yes, maybe I'm trying to convince myself that I really do like my job, because this week has been tough, and I've found myself wanting to go back to teaching for the schedule. Because seriously--when am I ever going to see my friends and family?? Won't you join with me and think about when you shop? Think about the poor people who have to work on Christmas eve. You KNOW they would rather be at home with the people they love, or doing the special traditions they have, than making money for their bosses.