"What's up vagina ferg-vaginason"

Experience, shmexpirience......

"Listen hon, you need to be peppier," said my manager, pulling me close and sounding exactly like Marge's sister Patti on *The Simpsons.*

"Is there a problem? I mean, am I not being friendly enough with the customers?"

"Oh, no, no," senora husky voice said, "when you aren't helping clients, you act like you aren't excited enough to be here."

"Mmm-uhmm."

[On the inside it was more like "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME YOU MOTHER FUCKER? I DON'T GIVE A GODDAMN ABOUT THIS FUCKING FUCK-HOLE, SO GET A UTERUS AND LEAVE THE FUCK ALONE!!!" But on the outside, I kept the rage to a straight-faced "Mmm-uhmm."]

I know this may come as a shock for you, my dear readers, but your Amanadoos life if fraught with danger. Not the 'hot biker chick in chaps' kind of danger...mmm...more like the 'at any moment your family, sanity and relationships could all completely fall apart simutaneously' kind of danger. I was in just such a danger zone yesterday when duty called when I drove my mothers embarrassingly tacky car the 1 hour it takes to get to Snippities. Once there, I immediately started working my bull-riders-esque hands into frenzied oblivion, smiling at every costumer and speaking in the warm, invitational tone they tell us to use in the training videos.

But then something slowly but surely began happening. My manager started asking me to do things that just made me look busy. FOR INSTANCE; at Snippities, there are these neat-o vacuum cleaners that come out of cabinets in the walls. You just open the cabinet, attach the hose to the hole in the wall and suck up the hair. It's wonderful.....for the stylists, whose job it is the clean up the hair at their station. Ohhh yeah. It's THEIR JOB to clean up THEIR CLIENTS HAIR.

But I digress.

I frequently clean up the hair if I have a sec., especially for the girls who are nice and I know hate to do it. I don't mind doing it AT ALL.

But for some reason, the manager kept telling me to SWEEP up the hair with the TINY BROOM...instead of vacuuming it up while she rang up the client. WHY I couldn't suck it up I'll never know. Why I couldn't use a regular-sized broom, I'll never know. For that matter, I have no friggin' clue why I couldn't ring up the costumer while she cleaned up her own hair. I mean, that's my job! And getting the hair is hers! What the fuck!

And then, when I got back from my break, I clocked in and was heading for the utility room to get the broom to sweep the waiting area (which I'd already done twice mind you). While I was on break, the silent partner of the ownership of Snippities came in. AS I WAS HEADING TO THE BROOM, "Hey, what's your name?"..."Amanadoo then, hows about getting all this hair off the floor in the waiting area?" I said 'Yeah.' and continued on my journey when ol' husky pipes grabbed me by the arm and admonished me for not sweeping the waiting area. Yeah, on my break folks. I stealthily continued onward. When I finally arrived at the broom, the wicked witch of the west side hissed, "I was about to say...don't you know one of the owners is here girl? You better clean that damn floor fo' he sees all that damn hair." For her, I had no response whatsoever.

The entire day was like that, me getting orders from several different people to do jobs that aren't even mine to do several times. By the time I clocked out (at 4:12), I'd swept the front 4 times, washed the windows 4 times, dusted the shelves with a duster twice, dusted the shelves with Pledge 5 times and so on and so on...

As I was preparing me to leave, the manager pulled me aside and ran through the shit list of stuff Amanadoo doesn't do right that the silent partner had already given me half an hour before. I greet wrong, I'm not PEPPY ENOUGH, I mop wrong, I do the mirrors wrong, I do EVERYTHING wrong. Which struck me as odd since, technically, only the greeting clients part is actually MY job. For a silent partner, that guy never shuts the fuck up!

And then the clencher. As I was walking toward the door and un-repetitive freedom, husky McHuskins called out, "And, Amanadoo," {waits for the pause and turn around to see what she has to say now routine I've so recently mastered} from now on, when you're scheduled to get off at 4, expect to be here until at least 4:30. Ok? You're prolly gonna have to plan on 5 actually."

Instantly I knew I could not work and hour away from home, to get paid $6 an hour at a place that schedules you to get off an hour before they actually plan to let you go even though you only do busy work the whole day and there's no good reason for you to stay.

And with that, I slinked out the door, drove off in my moms embarrassingly tacky car, went to bed, woke up this morning and called off for today. I'll tell them I'm quitting tommorow.