One time I decided to get a job over the summer at a popular, trendy boutique with hopes of getting discounts on their super cute, cheap clothing. You know the one. As I made my way in for an interview, I was greeted by a girl with square-framed glasses, skinny jeans, and a plaid top, tied above her navel, but layered with another tank top. The grungy hipster look is SO UGLY, but whatever.
Anyway, she gave me a sugary smile and went through the usual song and dance banter one can expect at an interview. Did you get here okay? Tell me about yourself. What do you consider your greatest strengths and/or weaknesses? Where do you see yourself 5 years from now? Think of a time when you had to work with someone you didn't like, how did you handle that?
Of course I smiled the entire time and said exactly what any retail manager wants to hear: complete and utter bullshit, but hey - it got me a job and some cute clothes and accessories for a summer of work.
But I fucking hated that bitch.
For someone that was supposed to be the main manager of a retail store, her clothes were always hideous, always with a hipster edge to it, which sorry, not sorry, doesn't look good on anyone. I guess that should have been my first red flag in what to look for in my job. Maybe if she was nicer, I would have been able to get past her fashion faux pas. And you think a bitch named Chanel would have a better sense of fashion.
Anyway, Chanel was always the most passive-aggressive person I had ever met with her stupid, square glasses (totally non-prescription, by the way), her awful plaid, and her knack of always having me work Friday nights and Saturday mornings consecutively. When school was getting ready to start, I put in my two weeks notice out of fairness. Another week scheduled with Friday night and Saturday morning made me not regret this decision at all.
Then this happened:
At the end of my Saturday morning shift, I decided to shop, but unfortunately, this cute dress I wanted wasn't in my size. I asked Chanel if there were any more in the back, possibly in a medium and she looked me over and said, "That's a one size fits all. You should probably cut back on the mall food. Or maybe buy our Slimmers." Slimmers were our trademark body stocking that contained and molded fat to look like curves.
"Fuck you and your ugly ass hipster shit!" Is what I wanted to say in reply. Instead, I laughed lamely and said, "But it's so delicious." Ew. Whatever. I regret not saying that to her.
However, the anger still burns from that situation years later and it helped my target practice with Lex as I destroyed my target repeatedly. In my mind, the hipster shirt became torn shreds with each shot, the square black frame glasses shattering into a million pieces and those stupid jean-looking leggings that covered her stick legs... all blown apart.
That's what I pretended anyway. During our session, my aim went from the outer edges of the target to very close to the middle. A few even hit the bulls-eye repeatedly.
At least Chanel's hideous fashion was good for something, even if it was all in my head. Every time I pictured another ugly shirt or skirt that she would wear, I came very close to hitting dead center. It made our week of target practice very lucrative.