It's been 90 days since I started working at the dispensary. I got caught up in a groove of work and weekends. Suddenly, it's a month since I last wrote. I am now 60. Memorial Day, and Ann and Doug's fabulous party, has come and gone. Game of Thrones is absolutely over.
Work is like a television show. Counting is uninteresting, but the action that goes on around it makes it worth getting out of bed in the morning. This is a show so full of characters that it could run seasons. The employees all have stories, as do the patients. In many respects, it's a typical workplace, but then add the cannabis aspect to it, and it takes on a whole surreal, fuzzy quality.
It's a tradition at this dispensary to give employees a top shelf 1/8 of an ounce on their birthdays. For my birthday, I chose a nice hybrid called N'ice Cream. James the bud tender (not James the security guard) recommended it. I'm glad I asked him, because he showed me top shelf product that I didn't even know we had. It was even more top shelf than the top shelf I was aware of. Smoked a bit of a joint of it with Loretta and Bake on the night of my birthday. It's long gone, and my next birthday is far away, so it's now a fond memory.
On my 90th day, a couple of days ago, Ernest, my supervisor, who is probably 26, asked me my name. He said he had me mixed up with Pam, but I think he wasn't going to remember my name until he knew I was staying. He said as much after I had worked a couple of weeks. He also said that, from this moment forward, my life was going to change drastically. He told me to get rid of all the spread sheets I have been working on since I started and make new ones. I have a whole new counting route. And I am to touch every piece of merchandise to make sure every sku# is accounted for.
I panicked for a moment, feeling the anxiety rise in my chest. So I went to lunch and processed his news. By the time I returned from lunch, I was calm, because it's all just counting. Funny thing, I've felt like I've been in a rut. It comes at a good time. It's amazing that I can stress about this job if I let myself. So I am not going to let myself.
The owner is having new floors installed. They're dark wood laminate and they look really nice. But they don't make up for the vermin problem, which is still there. Baby rats have been found. The Health Department came by today. Probably not a coincidence. I think we are on their radar. For good reason. I still won't use the restroom, so I have to come home for lunch. Today, something happened to the employee bathrooms and no one could use them.
It makes me laugh that I am happy at this place, after working in some really gorgeous spots. The winery in Rutherford was a sparkling clean castle, surrounded by vines, flowers, and vegetables. This place is in a not so good part of town. The other day, I almost walked on the carcass of a dead bird in the parking lot.
I am content. My co-workers are fun. The work is stress-free. I like the routine. I have a place to go, and I get paid money. It is a scene. Today I had words with a customer who was berating Onyx.
Shake Lady comes in three or four times a week, and complains loudly about everything. She always asks if we have "shake" and she is always told that that there won't be any shake for another three months. Today she was loudly complaining in the line about how disorganized everything was. The phone rang and Onyx picked it up, which, I agree with her, he shouldn't have done, but that's what our boss wants.
The bitch pointed at me and said, "she should answer the phone. She's nothing but stock." I looked at her and asked her if she wanted to come to work with us, because she was so organized. She snapped back that she went to school and got a degree so she didn't have to work in a stressful place like this. Luckily, it ended with her leaving and me not saying anything more, except to apologize to Onyx, who apologized to me for her disrespect.
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