"A Christmas Hangover""How was your Christmas?" I inadvisedly ask one older man who calls me today, the day after Christmas. He pauses infinitesimally, and then says, "Uh...alright. I was alone. Many people are." I was too. I am. I understand what he is saying. You know, I'm not Christian. But I am a fan of Jesus. And yet I find that I am good and tired of Christmas and its expectations that live within my own self. It's different than it used to be. Just a year ago, I was ending a 3-year period of being - what is that word, again? It's the replacement word for "homeless". Ah yes, that's it: "displaced". For those three years, the month of December just blew. I was working for myself, looking for clients to hire me for my marketing savvy. And in December, no one is looking to hire. People are looking to buy. So, to have a December in which I could make money from the very activity that used to bum me out...well, that struck me as brilliant karmic balancing. But now it's December 26th. I spent my December 24th birthday with my dear friend Nancy. We stayed up until 4AM, drinking good wine, and laughing and talking. It's the kind of evening only really old friends can have. I've known Nancy for over 40 years now. Christmas was A Day of Rest. But today was the day from hell. I am still tired. I thought it was all of the wine consumed on Christmas Eve, but I am reconsidering why I feel like the tail end of a drinking binge. I am marinating in a dream so powerful and so lasting with messages, I have yet to write it down, and yet I have forgotten nothing. I am absolutely over talking to people about gifts. Done. Finito! The rushing to make scads of money at work while the holidays were happening - that filled me with tons of adrenaline. And now the adrenaline is gone. And I want to crawl under the bed for a fucking week. I really do. I most DEFINITELY don't want to talk to people about how their gift was the wrong size. I really don't. I really don't care, truth be told. Not when I feel as though the stuffing has been taken out of me, and not yet returned to my emotional body. People said to me today, "That's retail!" Well, ugh! I've not been through a retail Christmas before, so the ups and downs of December sales is not one I'm familiar with yet. I sit there today, earning a partly $600 today for the company - me, the Superstar of the group (oh my poor ego...) - while my friend Joe makes one sale in the amount of $1,919, and I am gob-smacked. Because I am so wiped, this strikes me as my personal Sales Apocalypse. I am useless, done, spent, this is The End, it is All My Fault, and my Run of Sales Magnificence is over. I shall go broke. Yada, yada, yada. How wonderful it is to be an emotional being. Speaking of emotions, a Black woman calls and says she feels that her son was discriminated against for not being permitted to exchange a coat. I honestly don't know what to say. Maybe she's right. Maybe she's not. I have absolutely no idea, and I know that no matter what I say it's gonna be wrong, from Macy's perspective. I should say, mechanically, "Ma'am, I am so sorry. Let me find someone who can speak with you," and leave it at that. But do I? No. I spend 30 minutes trying to find someone to talk to her. I finally have to give up - no one's answering the damn phones, because the people in the stores have not one person at a time but four coming up to the counters with, "My gift doesn't fit!!!!", and the Macy's employees are sneaking draughts of schnapps in bathrooms when they're on break. But I send an email about her, with her contact info, and I give her a direct line to call. And I consider crawling under the desk and refusing to speak to anyone else because it's nearly the end of the day and I just can't keep going. But that would be a bit too dramatic, I decide, so I just put my head in my hands and keep answering the phone. Perseverance. A good thing or a bad thing? Some days I have no way of knowing. It is time to refocus. It is time to sleep. And to take my attention off of making money through an adrenaline-fueled haze, and to instead start writing my play, and my best selling book, and working on my business, and continuing to get through the holidaze. Because until January 2nd, this is still that time of year. God help me. It is time to say goodnight to 2018. To be thankful that this year was spent in a home of my own. To be grateful that this crazy job is mine. To look ahead. And to look within...my bedcovers. Good night, Christmas. ©2018 Lori Kirstein
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AuthorWorking in Sales at a Call Center for one of the biggest stores in the country should come with hazard pay. Archives
December 2019
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