Alrighty, America. First of all, to those of you who say hello back to cashiers, who ask how they’re feeling today, and who realize the cashier might JUST MIGHT be a person, too: thank you. You realize that being a cashier does not make me less a person. You realize that you, too, could be standing right here, and doing what I do is just a job. It pays the bills. Poorly, and without 60-inch plasma flair, but it does. You can see that, in short, it’s just something to do.
For those of you who are total d-bags, screw you. Yeah, you, lady. The one who couldn’t spare a smile, walked away with that sour look on your face. Know what? Your daughter had that same look on her face. I smiled at her and she didn’t know what to do. She honestly was unprepared for human connections. At 11 or 12, she had no clue how to deal with a simple smile. Way to parent, ho. Guess what? I got so many compliments from people, just because I know how to smile. The world loves and is refreshed by humanity. I’ve got it, and you don’t. I rant here, where you can’t see my face. The rest of the time, once I’ve blown off this steam, I’m Susie Sunshine and I mean it. I’m the effing Pollyanna of the real world, even if in cyberspace I’m the ultimate pre-hallucinative Scrooge.
I hope I see each and every one of you walk into my store, and my other job, too. I hope my earnest smile grinds your soul into dust and makes you feel like a shell of a person, questioning your existence in this work-a-day, dog-eat-dog world. At the end of my smile, I know I’m changing all that to a better place. Maybe even a place where my rants cease, and iRant becomes only iRave. So close to the anniversary of 9/11, I’m glad to be the one smiling and making the solution, rather than contributing to the grey cloud stretching across the rest of our buoyant souls. I’m not crushed yet, and I won’t be. I’m the one you want fighting for this, so bring it, beyotch. Bring your unsmiling self and your unprepared daughter. I’ll school you both.
