Me = Wile E. Coyote

I was almost all over the news. And I probably could have won a Darwin Award for that crap. For those who don’t know, I work a part-time customer service job (that I have unsuccessfully quit three times) in a bridal shop. So today I wandered on in and needed to go to the back to steam a dress. No problem! In the back room there’s this makeshift rack of dresses that are damaged beyond repair and it’s kind of the death row of bridal and special occasion dresses – it’s where they go to die. Lately, apparently, nobody has done anything with any of it because there’s like DOZENS of dresses hanging there, on this rickety freakin pretend rack made out of two stands with a pole wedged in between them just waiting on the unsuspecting Wile E. Coyote to walk below at just the wrong moment. My brilliant brain decided I was going to hang the dress I was steaming (…and cleaning, because nobody opened the bag until the DAY SHE WAS PICKING IT UP and the dress had makeup and dirty smudges on it) on a nearby rolling rack and plug the steamer in to the wall behind the shower curtain rod that we pretend is an actual rack of dresses.

So I hang the wedding gown I’m about to steam up on the rolling rack and go to plug the steamer in BUT the plug is hidden behind the sixty or so special occasion dresses and ten wedding gowns and whatever else hanging on the rack there. Cord in hand, I move a few of the dresses aside, trying to feel for the wall outlet and – OH MY GOD – the entire freaking rack topples over my head (thank goodness it went over and not on top of) and comes crashing to the floor. Freaking giant mess – dresses, hangers, and one of the stands just like, splattered all over the floor, the other stand landed on top of a bunch of boxes and part of another wall, and the pole that was between them got wedged in a really awkward way. Also, the hundreds of pounds of metal and dresses knocked the steamer over, spilling about a half gallon of water all over the floor underneath the dresses, so a bunch of them got sopping wet while they were laying there waiting to be picked up. Since I was in the back room, I had to page the front and ask them to send Jocelyn to the back to help me clean that crap up. It could have been really bad if I had gotten stuck under there – nobody would have found me for, like, hours. Which, some days, would have been a better way to spend my time at work.

Anyway, part of me is still really annoyed that people just piled up all that crap on something that wasn’t really designed for it but then at the same time, I’m the coyote. And whoever hung all that crap is the roadrunner. Have I mentioned lately that I freaking hate my job? Because I freaking hate my job.

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