Perfectionism, old-people conversation, and gender confusion

Have you ever *actually* looked at a calendar, at all the nitpicky little things that make a calendar complete? Have you ever paused to think about the poor person whose job it is to type in all the national/religious holidays and to format those teeny last/next month previews? No? Well, neither did I...until I became that poor soul. Plus, I'm a perfectionist, so you can guess how long it's taking me to do all this shit. Poor me. You should pity me, you lucky bastard, you lucky, free-from-having-to-put-together-an-entire-goddamn-calendar-by-yourself bastard. You should pity me and distract me with IMs...lots and lots of IMs. If you were really my friend, you would. *pout*

Alright, enough of this wallowing in self-pity. Today was my first day working at Cenex. Everything went pretty well. I learned the register stuff quickly, helped price and restock stuff, and made fascinating conversation with my coworkers. Did I mention that they are all much, much older than I am? We're talking about 50-, 60-, and 70-year-old people here. So we ended up talking about arthritis, ungrateful grandchildren, the comfort level of the new uniforms, and, of course, the weather. Fascinating stuff, I tell you. At least they haven't asked the question I've been dreading: "So, have you got yourself a nice young man yet?"

But I guess my coworkers are all okay...still haven't made up my mind about the woman who was training me and introduced me to EVERYONE as "Joan." Oh well, it's not like the 150 random customers will actually remember to call me Joan if I ever see them again. Oh yeah! I was mistaken for a guy so many times today that I lost count. It was mostly done by really old men and some older women. It generally went like this: "Hey there, Aggie. You're trainin' in a new fella, huh?" or "Who's this young man?" My trainer never failed to correct: "Nope, Bernie, this is our new *girl*, Joan." She would then wink at me, and I usually managed a small smile. This shocking revelation caused the customer to stop, stare, squint, tilt their head, look me up and down, twitch a little, and mumble, "Oh..." before grabbing their stuff and shifting uneasily toward the door. Yeah, can't wait to go back tomorrow and feel that incredible discomfort again.