I call bullshit on the magic of Macy's

Alright guys. I work at Macy's now. I have for about 2 weeks.

That being said, I freaking hate my life. You might ask, "Why, Sydney? Why would you hate your life in a place that makes it seem like a magical wonderland is right behind the doors of the shoe department?"

Well, because Macy's uses false advertisement. There is no magical wonderland hiding Donald Trump and J. Lo behind the doors of the shoe department stock-room. All that's hiding there is a bunch of shoes and baby cockroaches.

The main reason I hate being at Macy's (other than the physical exhaustion) is that I have no friends. I think I could enjoy the mind-numbing work if I had someone who liked me there, but I don't.

My coworkers make me feel like a total idiot. Specifically one woman who states incredibly obvious things to me all day long like she's curing cancer and I'm just scratching my balls and handing her test tubes.

Now, I'm not going to say her name. We'll call her G.

Here's how a normal conversation with G goes.

(as I bring out a sweater and a hanger from the dressing room)

G: 'Ay. You know you gotta hang that up before you put it back on the rack, right?

Me: *cue blank stare and internal eruption of emotions*

NO SHIT?! I have to hang something before I put it back on a rack? Is this real life?

Now that may not sound so bad, but it can wear on a sista after a while.

As I was walking past G one day, she stuck her leg out on "accident" and tripped the shit out of me. Like full-on cartoon tripping. I ask her if she is OK, to which she replies with a grunt and an eye-roll. No don't mind me. I was just walking and you happened to ram your foot right in to my shin. Glad you're doing fine.

Guys, I only have three goals in life.

1. Be in a flash mob

2. Have a bulldog named Rosie

3. Catch someone having sex in a dressing room a publicly humiliate them/have them arrested.

That's all. That's why I took this job. And to make a little money.

There are two hispanic women I work with, and the rest are black. And so as not to offend everyone, I don't dislike black people. I am merely pointing out a phenomenon I've noticed.

All the black women I work with are some type of Jamaican. They aren't ghetto in any way (except for one who says phrases like "I loves me some fried chicken" and "Have you had the lunch combo at Target?" Why, no. No I haven't.) and I find it very interesting.

One of my co-worker's name is so complicated, she just goes by Chi Chi which, coincidentally, is also what I call my vagina.

I had one woman get angry at me because I couldn't find linen pants in her size (which was a size 0, for the record). I'm sorry, but you're a size 0. EVERY PAIR OF PANTS IN THIS DAMN STORE WILL LOOK GREAT ON YOU. Go away. Also, I don't make nor do I order the pants. It's not my fault we don't have them. Plus, linen makes everyone look terribly sloppy. I'm doing you a favor by not knowing how to do a look-up in the system.

Another woman spent close to $800 on clothes and then got mad at me for being unable to get her $10 off coupon to work. She then said to one of my coworkers that she needed someone else to help her because "clearly this transaction is too complicated for this one." This one. Like I'm some sort of hamster at a pet store....on clearance. Is the $10 going to make much difference to you in the long run? Really?

So basically I hate my life. I have one quasi-friend. She's a ginger so that's sort of a problem, but I'll take what I can get.

Pretty sure she has me on suicide watch because every time I make fun of myself or say I'm an idiot, she gets genuinely concerned and tells me not to be so hard on myself. Sweet, but I don't actually think I'm an idiot.

Also, I locked a woman out of a dressing room while she had no pants on. Can we say awkward?

So far, I've come to discover that Macy's is basically the Walmart of department stores. I would say Kmart, but JC Penney has that covered.

That's all for now!

Obsession of the day: Maury Povich