Diary of a retail slave: Working at the Levi's store ain't no disco
Submitted by Chuck0:By Walter Cessna
I LOST MY job at a fashion magazine and had spent the last year wandering
aimlessly, doing everything from harvesting kind bud up in Willets to
waiting tables off the books at a mountaintop restaurant for summer tourists
in Pennsylvania, all the while cashing my unemployment checks and sweating
bullets over when my totally taxable $6,000 stipend would come to a grinding
halt. I made the decision that if I was going to have an insecure future, it
might as well be spent someplace that I could actually tolerate and that
would give me maximum visual stimulation. So I moved back to San Francisco
for the fourth time in five years. Face it, San Francisco is like a drug
habit you've had for so long it's become more familiar than your family.
It's impossible to escape.
After spending a few weeks looking for a job, I just happened to be walking
through the Levi's store on Union Square, checking out clothes that I
couldn't afford (and wouldn't be caught dead in anyway) and basically
killing time, a habit I was becoming rather adept at. A cute little blond
salesgirl, who looked as if she'd be more comfortable in an Old Navy
commercial, started chatting me up about my tattoos (something that happens
on a daily basis, since I have 15 neon-colored, bug-eyed characters going
down each sleeve). Before I knew what I was saying, I had mentioned that I
was unemployed, and the girl had a job application in my hands quicker than
I'd get cruised at Blow Buddies.
