I’ve had an interesting week. . .and a productive week. . .and a stressful day thrown in for good measure. Tuesday my hubby was off work an extra day after the holiday, so I decided to use that time to get some errands done. My morning started off with restoring my newly repaired laptop data and discovering that somehow my budget didn’t make it. Yikes. I spent almost three hours recreating it from scratch. My stress level began to climb.
Next up, I go pick up my leftover yard sale stuff from a friend’s garage (long story) and take it to a consignment shop. Already stressed after the budget ordeal and trying to hurry because I have many other things to get done, I begin to unload my things. I discover that it is necessary to not only traverse the large parking lot to the drop off point, but also weave through the aisles of the consignment store. I bring in the first tote full of stuff and set it near the drop off point. I return to my car with a shopping cart (that first tote was HEAVY). I unload the rest of the stuff into the shopping cart, top it off with a larger item that won’t fit in the cart but straddles it well, shove a five piece luggage set underneath and set off toward the door, pulling my wheeled office chair behind me. I lose control of the cart, then the chair, then the cart (chasing one then the other, gah!) and finally make it to the door. The luggage set, of course, falls off as I wrestle the cart/chair combo through the narrow door and people are squeezing in on either side of me. Finally, some decent human holds the door open and I manage to shove everything into the building. It’s 95 degrees outside and I’m drenched in sweat after this ordeal. I begin to follow the red tape line as instructed by a store employee when I first arrived. To my dismay, I discover that another employee is stocking a shelf in that aisle and doesn’t want to move. She directs me to the end aisle because it’s wider (and because she doesn’t want to move. . .did I say that already?). As I’m waiting in the end aisle beside the line, yet another employee comes out and shoves the tote I already brought in to the floor beside me. She then proceeds to tell me that I’m standing in the wrong place and that I should have followed the red tape line. I explain to her that the employee in the tie-died shirt was in the red line aisle and told me to come this way. She continued to lecture me that there is a REASON for the red tape line and I am causing a traffic jam. My resolve to be extra nice, as this is my first time in the shop, begins to wane a little, but I calmly tell her that I UNDERSTAND what she’s saying about the red tape line. I was FOLLOWING INSTRUCTIONS. I digress. . .(can you tell the red line incident was irritating and stressful? It builds.)
After waiting until all the other people in the line (even those who arrived after me) finished their drop-offs, I bring my things to the intake person (yay, it’s the cranky one!). She tells me that the first tote she shoved back at me is stuff she’s going to “pass” on. It’s almost all of it. You need 20 items to open an account. I arrived with close to 30. She goes through all of my stuff and announces that I have only 12 items she’s accepting. If I can bring in eight more by Friday, I can open an account. If not, I’ll need to haul all of my things back out to my car now, or I can donate them to charity. I begin to cry. Yes, cry. Did I mention I cry when I’m stressed/angry/ready to rip someone’s hair out?
After I manage to mostly compose myself, I pull out the things I’m willing to donate to charity just so I don’t have to haul them back to the car. If they’re not accepting them, I have no use for most of it. As I’m sorting through, I discover a grocery bag filled with jewelry (all new) that hasn’t been opened. I say, “You don’t take jewelry?” in what is now a less than pleasant tone, because I know they do. . .there are racks of it in the front of the store. She says, “Oh, I didn’t see what was in the bag. Okay, you have enough items now.” I say, “Thank You, GOD,” and I really mean it. I think God saved me from slapping someone. At this point, yet another employee springs into action to get my account paperwork filled out. She is nice and seems embarrassed that the other girl is so rude. I get confused about the totes I brought in, can’t find a cart and she helps me get my stuff back together so I can take the “seasonal” items they won’t take now but will later back home with me. I tell Nice Girl that I’m not usually this scattered and she says we all have days like that. She puts me at ease in my final moments there. I hope she gets promoted to Consignment Store CEO and fires Rude Girl.
From there my day got better. I sold a few items to a second hand kids store, got all my grocery shopping done, and bought a table on sale that I’d had my eye on for a few days. All this set me up to finish my home organization project I recently started. I just wish I didn’t cry so easy. . .and that there was no such thing as red tape.