losing

I suppose I should write a new blog entry to keep you people happy. That's right, I said "you people".
     It's pretty cool to have loyal readers. I just wish I had enough creative energy in my misfiring little blob of gray matter to keep you all reading more consistently. Sometimes real life gets in the way of my half-assed attempt at a writing career, so I appreciate your patience.
     I believe the last time we met, I was stressing out over my annual store inventory, so I should probably fill you all in on how that went. I can pretty much sum it up in one word. Poop. Yeah, it went that well. Inventory is always tough. Everyone (other store managers and salespeople) all come to help since it is a big job, so it feels like you are being judged by your peers. We managers all support each other so it's not so bad, but it's still stressful to have 20 or so people in every nook and cranny of your store. It almost feels like an invasion of privacy, like someone is going through your underwear drawer and inspecting your clothes laundering abilities. Fortunately, we managers are united against the bigger enemy (i.e. our corporate overlords), and judgement is at a minimum. We all know that we will each have our turn on the chopping block and have banded together to help each other instead of passing judgement. It's really nice to have the support of your peers, even if your store's inventory is kinda messed up and everyone had to be there until 9pm to get it all straight. Oops.
     I probably shouldn't mention specific numbers and whatnot in a public forum, but my shit was waaaaay off, to the point where I was continually lectured throughout the day/evening. Probably even to the point where I will be made an example of in some twisted corporate logic kind of way. My boss likes me well enough, but I also drive him crazy (only sometimes on purpose). He alternated between patting me on the back for trying hard and giving me stern lectures with those little veins on his forehead sticking out. I consider it a small victory when I can make his face turn bright red and make those little veins pulse. It's my way of fighting back against oppression and I must admit there's a part of me that takes a perverse pleasure in it.
    It went about as well as I expected considering my lack of preparation, and when it was all said and done, I lived to fight another day. I'm sure I haven't heard the end of it, but that is exactly why I like to go first. If my numbers come out askew, which they usually do despite my (sometimes) sincere efforts, there are 6 other stores in line to be counted after mine. Usually a certain one of them will be screwed up worse than mine, thus transferring my boss's disapproving focus onto someone else for a while. So to sum it up, it could have been better, but it can always be worse. If I may wax poetic, I might suggest that such is the story of my life.