Just Sell It, Already Being a salesperson: that dirty little job that someone--you--has got to do
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When I was in high school and for part of college, I worked in ashoe store in the mall. Most of the time, it was pretty fun--Iliked the people I worked with, I got decent money for my age, andI got a juicy 40 percent discount on the shoes. Some say this iswhat led to my current shoe obsession--I did own, at one time,about 40 to 50 pairs of shoes solely from this shoe store, andcurrently I own in excess of 100 pairs of shoes. But I think Ialways had a shoe obsession--working at a shoe store just made itmore obvious.
There were days, though, when I would have rather scrubbed themall toilets with a toothbrush than be in that store. Particularlyaround back-to-school time, the majority of customers would turninto demanding, self-involved freaks whose only wish in life seemedto be making my life a living hell. I still have nightmares aboutmeasuring some kid's stinky feet, retrieving 14 differentstyles of shoes from the stock room only to have the kid or theparent change their minds, or being yelled at when some kid'sshoes fell apart (never mind that the shoes were 8 years old andwithstood a daily beating on a skateboard). Yes, truly, evilincarnate walked through my store's door on more than oneoccasion during the back-to-school rush.
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