MAX'S WAR JOURNAL PART 2: THE PROFITING


Hmm...I can only conclude that the lack of offers from the major media outlets is a result of my journal being far too light and cheerful. No, they obviously want something a little darker, and grittier.


LETTERS FROM THE FRONT: PART 2

*distant sounds of helicopters in background*


I can't believe I'm back in Saigon...and by Saigon, I mean Toys R Us...in Saigon. They swore it was the closest Toys R Us to Freehold, New Jersey and I was too blinded by loyalty to question it.

Retail is war. Worse yet, it's the only form of war where you're required to be polite to the enemy.

Oh yes, retail is war...and war is HELL!

And hell is PURGATORY!

And purgatory is a LONG WORD!

The screams of the kids still echo through my mind, their cries of 'Zuzu Pets' still haunting my soul to its core. The only thing more haunting is what I knew they'd do in order to get one. I shudder at the thought.

Every now and then a rookie asks me a question, as if I'm in charge, not knowing that I was just as clueless as they were as to the purpose of our mission, or the best course of action. I try not to get attached to the rookies. Most of them won't last even a single day out here in the thick of the action.

They just canceled our leave, unexpectedly. The automated announcement over the loud speaker that told us we were closed were quickly followed up by the voice of the assistant manager, assuring the customers that the message was in error, and we would be open for several hours yet.

The groans, curses, and death threats that followed from the staff are all a part of working retail, and every associate goes a little insane from it all.

Last night my mind broke at around 10:30, resulting in my development of a new skateboarding trick: you ride at top speed towards a long metal pole (like a lamp post), leap up into the air, spread your legs wide, and then pass straight through the metal pole, groin first. I call it the 'Kobayashi Maru'. Or better yet, the 'Ko-BOOYAH-shi Maru'.

My insanity is more low key compared to some of the others. Some hoot, some holler, some hit on co-workers less than half their age (I'm looking at you, Kathy), and one guy even ran past me yesterday, hunched over and grabbing at his groin, while not making a single sound.

Others are merely mutinous, resulting in a fair bit of anarchy. Every day I find more and more hidden piles of toys. You could blame it on the customers, but I saw the same items earlier in the day in the 'return carts', waiting to be put back on the shelves. Someone might just have to frag their asses.

And by frag I mean...actually, I just mean frag. No analogies here.

Last night I stumbled upon another pile of returned goods, stuffed towards the back of a shelf. With a low grumble I yanked it out, and found it was a Zuzu pet playset.

MY GOD! MY LIFE WAS IN DANGER!

Any moment a hundred screaming, raving customers would be lunging for my throat, and clawing at the box in my hands. By the time they'd be finished, I'd be little more than a shred of meat stuck to a pile of bones.

For all purposes, I was holding a live grenade, with the pin already pulled out, and making cute hamster noises.

In a crazed rush I lunged towards the front, hopped on a skateboard, and unsuccessfully performed the Ko-BOOYAH-shi Maru on a six foot stack of 'Hungry, Hungry Hippos'.

The resulting distraction allowed me to ditch the dreaded robotic hamster playset on the front counter.

I'd survived. Another day down, and fourteen to go...


Seasonal Sales Associate, Robert "Maxcat" Freeman

(Robert Freeman died three days later, in a skateboarding related tragedy. His family has asked that all donations be forwarded to Will Shatner)