I begrudgingly realized my Junior year at JMU that in order to support my activities of hanging out and doing absolutely nothing productive on the regular I would need to supplement my cash flow with a part-time job. Mom’s fundage was like unemployment-just barely enough to get the basics and nada mas! How I managed to live off that money for as long as I did is a mystery to me but I guess inflation hit in 1999 because my hundo dollars every two weeks suddenly wasn’t nearly enough to sustain the lifestyle to which I had become accustomed (i.e. eating pizza every day while watching Judy Judy and Jerry Springer).
I needed a job that wouldn’t require me to work very much, would work around my class schedule and wouldn’t interfere with my nightly routine of drinking, smoking pot and making out with boys. I didn’t want to work with anyone’s food, move around too much or interact with people I didn’t know. This was a tall order to fill. On campus employment seemed like the smartest move to fit these requirements and Mister Chips convenience store seemed like the best bet.
Mister Chips, located at the “Crossroads of Campus” (!!) was one of the best jobs I didn’t realize I ever had. The shifts were two hours each. Two. Hours. Each. Are you kidding me with this? How awesome is that? At the time however, these two hours were met with such dread and disdain that you would have thought I was going to work a double shift at a slaughter house for puppy dogs.
Note: I was very lazy back then so in addition to actually having to work, I would also dread having to walk the .50 mile to get there.
Once I got to work I would proceed to read hundreds upon hundreds of magazines while occasionally ringing someone up for cigarettes or a pregnancy test. I got very good at correctly stereotyping people and guessing what kind of cigs they would get before they even asked: Sorority girls = Marlboro Ultra Lights. Hippies = Camels. Northerners = Parliaments, etc.
Senior Year rolled around and I was still technically employed at the Chips. My first shift was to start promptly upon me returning to school. I discussed it with my roommates who also worked there and we summarily agreed that we could not possibly continue to us work our Senior year of college. It was way too big of a stain. How could our parents expect to work 8-10 hours a week our Senior Year? Totally ridiculous! So we all quit and spent the entire year doing what we had done the previous three-skipping class, sleeping late and getting shit faced. It was time well spent.
If I could go back in time and visit 21 year old TLW I would bitch slap the shit out of her for complaining about reading magazines and hanging out with her friends at work. I would then tell her to buck up, stop crying and to exercise just a little bit for the love of God. Then I would tell her that before you know it you’ll be 30, working all day, every day and are forced to endure one of the most annoying people on the planet. So go ahead and read another Us Weekly there TLW. Just you wait…….