TRY TO SELL ME SOMETHING

I work in retail.
I am a 'sales associate'.
I work in a questionable Canadian city, and I sling straight leg or relaxed fit denim to white trash.
I service the blue collar community.
I am attracted to most of them.
That is neither here nor there!
My point; tonight, I daydreamed about selling shit to people. Do I really back what I sell?
Do I give a shit if the customer is satisfied?
Do I unhold my companies standards on customer service?
The answer is Yes, and NO!
I have this retail Ian, he is a far cry from the Ian whose ass I wipe, or whose polluted kleenex I bury at the bottom of the waste paper basket.
This Ian, well, he sells shit, he genuinely laughs at a customers joke, he smiles all the time, he looks at a customer leaving the store, and he really hopes to see them again.
I hate this Ian.
This self that I have created. He is obnoxious, he is persistent, he is a shiny example of all the things I see myself hating when I'm sipping beers with my friends like Dan, Lisa or Karen. This is the Ian that Karmen wouldn't even look twice at on the sidewalk.
I become a version of myself that I don't even recognize.
I think then....If I am willing to do this for a store where my wage is insulting, where I NEVER go home feeling like I have accomplished something, why is it that I have created a persona?
Why do I owe my job this alter-ego.
The truth, well, we all have it, fuck man, we have it with different friends who travel in the same circle.
I am not the same Ian I am with Willy as I am with Wanda!
We recreate ourselves.
It's funny because even the biggest skeptics of what I am saying right now, have a personality that someone they know, would be shocked to uncover.
I see myself as a different person with the different people I know.
Well, I can say this to this person, but not to that one.
I can make a fart joke with you, but not you!
I can cry infront of you, but I would never do it infront of you!
Yet, I sell for a company that pays me to do so.
I do it well to, I sold a homophobe a pink sweatshirt, I sold a racist the worst safety shoe we sell.
I get back at the public where I can.
In my head, I call you cunts, fuckers, dorks, shitheads, and dickweeds.
I hate most of you, although I smile!
Well, since you buy what I sell, I'll be honest with all of you, I hate people who shop, I hate people who don't know their waste size, I hate people who refuse to give their postal codes, I hate men who shop with their wives/mummy's, I hate exceptionally fat people who bitch at ME for not stocking their size, I hate people who say they have been waiting too long for an order, I hate people who swear at me knowing I can't say 'Suck my big hard cock you lousy fucking fungal turd!'. I hate long professionally done finger nails. I hate people in manual labor jobs that shop at the end of their shift. I hate the use of the words Nigger, Faggot, Chinamen, Paki and Bitch, that I have heard countless times in countless sales. I hate that my 'HEAD OFFICE' does not back me in telling these losers to fuck off, to leave the store, or that I do not appreciate what they are saying. I am only allowed to nod and bring the subject back to the sale at hand.
I HATE RETAIL!
I HATE THE GENERAL PUBLIC!
You're all a bunch if self serving assholes out to get what you want!
I hope you get it, then I hope you shove it up yer ass, set it on fire, and try to pee on it to save yer own unholy, manufactured, ignorant asses from burning.

Fuck you!

Ian