the things we aren't

Well, here we are!  Nearly half way (by means of being only a third) into March and I'm still in the same spot I thought I'd be.  Which is to say... nothing.  I don't have anywhere to go with that sentence.  Clever me!  This is one of those instances where I am writing just to write, and not necessarily to promote some profound idea I've had or anything of the sort.  I've had a lot on my mind the past couple days and I am starting to drive myself a little bit crazy, so I think an outlet of words is a healthy option for now.

Lately I've been thinking about how fake people can be.  By people I obviously mean myself, but in this instance I do casually refer to the general populous at large.  I don't mean fake in the terms of "Hey, you phony bitch, why did you lie to me?"  I mean fake more along the lines of the facades we put up on a day to day basis in view of the general public and, in some cases, in view of those we hold closest to us.  I think our lives fill up with all of the things we aren't instead of the things we really are, and I don't know how to curb that.  If anyone does, please, come forward... but I don't think that will happen.  I don't think anyone can ever truly be themselves around anyone BUT themselves.  Could be wrong on that, but again, I don't believe I am.

So, the general public and those we hold closest to us.  Let's call them the GP and the HC from here on out.  I deal with the GP 40 hours a week because it is my job to do so.  As the assistant manager at a retail store that begins with an E and ends with ESS (left out that tell-tale syllable just in case I needed to.  It has an X.  Shit.) it is my job to deal with random people every day.  For the most part my customers are pleasant.  Sometimes they are downright fun.  A lot of other times they are the biggest group of dumb fucks I have ever encountered, but I digress.

Now, you might be able to find three of them that know my name.  You might be able to find one (one) of the regulars who would remember some tiny, insignificant detail about me.  Where I am going on vacation.  Where I live.  What my opinion on the slow mall traffic and construction on Oneida Street is.  The sad part of that is I could name a couple dozen of our customers, what they or their spouses do for a living.  Where they are taking/have taken vacation(s).  Kids names.  Pets names.  Thoughts on said construction and mall traffic.  Logic tells me that if a customer is always right and the customers pay my salary, then I am indeed employed by the GP and not a global corporation.

To me what is sad about that scenario is that I take time on a daily basis to get to know people and figure them out and they could really just give two flying fucks to the wind about what I think.  Who I am.  Because to them, I am merely the person who swipes a credit card or explains why you can't wear certain tops with certain bottoms or suede boots underneath dress pants.  To the GP I am a nameless face that doesn't really exist and I suppose that is alright because at the end of the day, none of them REALLY matter to me either.  They exist in their own worlds and I in mine and that is the natural order of things.  Maybe they don't get to see the real me because I can't say the things I would say to my family or closest friends.  Doing so would either get me fired or scare the conservatives away.

An Ideal Transaction That Will Never Happen At Work:

Sean stood at the cash-wrap, his head down as he pierced the fabric of the blue button down with a sensor pin and lined it up with the gator tag's hole.  With a firm push and a simple snap! the garment was secured and ready to be placed on the floor.  He looked up as a customer approached, one he knew from frequent visits to the store.

"Hey Jessica!" He called, pushing the garment away and reaching over the counter for the items she had brought up.

"Hey Sean!"

"Find everything alright today?" he asked, expertly removing the sensors on her clothing and starting a transaction.  She nodded enthusiastically.

"I did, yes.  Thank you."

"No problem.  How was your weekend?  Do anything exciting?"  She sort of shrugged her shoulders and leaned against the counter, absentmindedly rummaging through her purse for a coupon she had thought to bring.

"Not really, just stayed at home with Rick and the kids.  What about you?  Anything fantastic happen?"  Sean felt the blush on his cheeks for a brief instant as he scanned her merchandise and started sliding it into a bag.  He briefly looked at her and grinned before accepting her coupon.

"Well... I had a date Friday night."  Jessica reared back in surprise, giving him a double take.

"You did?"

"Yes, with the most amazing guy.  It was perfect."

"Did you get a goodnight kiss?"

"$47.98 is your total," he mumbled before adding, "and yes, I did.  That was perfect as well."

"Good for you!" Jessica exclaimed, swiping her credit card and finishing the transaction.  As she took her bag and turned to leave she glanced over her shoulder.  "Really, good for you," she said sincerely, "I hope it works out."

The truth of the matter behind my facade with the GP is that I am a very private person that hardly ever speaks about himself.  The answers I provide to their questions, when directed to me as a person and not me as a sales person, are generic.  They are dry.  "What do I think of the weather?  I think it's great and what a shame I'm stuck in here all day, haha!"  "Do I have any vacations of my own coming up?  Maybe something at the end of the year but who knows, I might not be able to get off work!  Haha!"  Never forget that the person helping you at a clothing store is 99% the fakest person you will encounter that day, mostly because they aren't there to share life stories.  They are there to sell a product and not give you clues as to how to find them outside of the store when they have punched out for the day.  A blank slate you project yourself upon.

Now in reality that conversation above would never, ever, in a million years happen.  Not to say Jessica is or is not real, because she very well could be.  And not to say Sean did or did not go on a date last Friday night... because he very well may have.  Ahem.  On to the HC's.

I think I have a multiple personality disorder.  And in the history of not deleting anything I type out (save for spelling corrections, natch) I would very much like to go back right now and delete that.  It's more fun to explain it though.  I don't have MPD in the sense of voices in my head telling me what to do, etc.  I mean it in regards to how I change myself to bend to the wills of the people around me.  We all do it, don't lie.  This isn't something that is limited to friends though, or even family alone.  It is everyone we hold (I hold) closest.  You can act a certain way around different people in order to make them happy and/or comfortable, right?  Same thing.

I like to categorize mine.  They are as follows:

The Writer:  Reserved most often for people I haven't seen since high school or others that mean just as little but whose opinions I would like to sway for fear they will bring me up to others.  The Writer emerges as a self-promoting genius who uses big words and often resorts to the "Oh, you didn't know that?" tactic.  As I said, reserved for people I could give a shit about.

The Comedian:  Most often in play, the comedian is who I try to be as a default.  Doesn't always work, but when it does, it really does.  Enjoys making people laugh, enjoys telling stories in a way that are enthralling even if the actual event was far from it.  Takes a cue from self-proclaimed gifts of "The Writer" (or the musings of a self-proclaimed author... bang.)

Mr. Incredible:  Dates only.  Usually Mr. Incredible only lasts a couple dates because of two reasons.  1.) It is very difficult to be continuously witty and cute at the same time while commanding attention and leading the conversation in a way that is both charming and influential all at once.  2.) It isn't who I REALLY am, and eventually everyone realizes that.  You can't be incredible 24/7.

The Whiner:  Most often emerges around friends who also work retail, as the job forms a bond across all companies and all stories can be sympathized with.  Most experiences are shared in one capacity or another and sometimes a good hour-long bitching session is just what the doctor ordered.  Does whine about anything and everything else, though.  Not to be exclusive.

The Achiever:  Rears his head in conversations that have to do with goals and ideas, often over drinks.  Talks about and imagines a life that is greater, with more purpose.  What he would do if he could, what he will do when he can, etc.  Thinks he's deep when really he probably sounds like a big boob.

I'm sure there are other facades that exist within the lexicon of Sean Parker, but right now they aren't coming to me.  The whole point I am trying to make in this is why can't we ever just be ourselves like we want to be?  I suppose that is what true love is reserved for, to find someone who loves your flaws as much as your finer qualities and accepts them all the same.  In regards to earlier in this long blog post... I did go on a date.  And surprisingly, I'm not going to talk about it.  Some of you will be privy to the finer details but I think that this time, as opposed to all others, I am going to play the cards a little closer to my chest.

That being said, it's amazing how much you fear you showed the wrong face to someone you just met.  Maybe "Mr. Incredible" should have been "The Comedian."  Maybe "The Comedian" should have had more of "The Achiever," and less of "The Writer."  Who knows.  Well, scratch that.  I know.  I should have just been me, myself, and I; the pieces that I wake up with in the morning and go to bed alone with every night.  The foundations of my personality and the pieces that make me a whole.  It's easier said than done... maybe some of you know that.  In the end, it's all we've got.

I'm going to go to bed now because I have rambled on for a VERY sufficient amount of time.  Thanks for spending your night/morning/afternoon/break/whatever with me.  This is "The Whiner," signing off.