Christmas Eve
Dec. 24th, 2005 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenOh god I hate Christmas. I hate Christmas. I hate hate hate Christmas.
I also hate myself for hating it quite so much, because I do not in any way deserve my friends or my family. Regardless of anything I've said, they've given me cards and presents and good wishes and even total strangers have told me to have a good Christmas. I worked most of the day in Pritchard's, which was mad crazy busy, full of last-minute Christmas shoppers and most of the staff past and present. There's been no change in the shop, and I slipped back into it like a hand into a glove. We didn't place any orders, of course, as no books will arrive until New Year, now. Instead, there were just the people I used to work with, like Gary and Tony and Niall, along with a boy introduced to me as the person "who took your job." His name is Andy and he's probably worthy of my job. We served hundreds of customers, or so it seemed, and took lots of cash, and finished the day having broken the £4500 mark, and having eaten too much cake, provided by Tony. He's been even more manic than usual this week, so Mike has bought him the Little Book of Calm and made him take a day off.
Oh, it was just nice to see them all again, and knowing they were pleased to see me. (Tony had set aside the new Doctor Who novels for me to look at, and Mike was trying to get me to watch Family Guy.) And Gary had brought in a Christmas CD and persuaded the computer to play it, so we had Winter Wonderland and generous helpings of Slade, and I got back after lunch in time for a rousing rendition of Remember You're A Womble. All the customers wished me a merry Christmas, and some even expressed surprise at the fact I was back from Oxford. Near the end of the day, I was serving a woman when someone else came in and tried asking Gary and Mike for a book. After a minute, she asked, "Don't you have any girls working here?"
As the sole representative of the species, I volunteered. "I'm looking for a book that has 'big knickers' in the title," she confided. I went to find her a copy of Louise Rennison's It's Okay, I'm Wearing Really Big Knickers, and when I got back, both Mike and Gary were laughing about something.
"That woman you were serving," Gary started. "Before you went to find that book."
"What woman?" I asked, and meant it. I had, and have, absolutely no recollection of this woman. But according to Mike, she was made to wait for, "oh, about five seconds" (according to Mike), and then she flounced off muttering about the "dreadful service" and "that stupid girl!"
"Bitch," said Mike with unexpected venom. "She shouldn't be doing her Christmas shopping at five o'clock on Christmas Eve!"
There was vociferous agreement. Finally we cashed up and locked the doors, leaving tinsel and cash strewn over the till, and a very merry Christmas was wished for all. I went home pleased, but rather glad my Christmas experience was over.
But it wasn't.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eternalwings appeared with a present for me, which I absolutely loved, but I ended up feeling rather silly because I didn't have anything for her. I think I shall have to bite the bullet and actually buy presents for people, because I do not deserve all of this love. I have spent two weeks determinedly not thinking about Christmas and one week throwing up, whilst everyone esle has been being organised, and damn it, thoughtful and considerate. hathy_col has something for me too, and so many people have sent me cards, and hell, even my parents had something for me. I am a horrible person.
Coming up, my fic year in review, as much about Assam as I have the courage to write, and undoubtedly some more self-flagellation. A very merry Christmas to all from this repentant Hindu. I love you all.
I also hate myself for hating it quite so much, because I do not in any way deserve my friends or my family. Regardless of anything I've said, they've given me cards and presents and good wishes and even total strangers have told me to have a good Christmas. I worked most of the day in Pritchard's, which was mad crazy busy, full of last-minute Christmas shoppers and most of the staff past and present. There's been no change in the shop, and I slipped back into it like a hand into a glove. We didn't place any orders, of course, as no books will arrive until New Year, now. Instead, there were just the people I used to work with, like Gary and Tony and Niall, along with a boy introduced to me as the person "who took your job." His name is Andy and he's probably worthy of my job. We served hundreds of customers, or so it seemed, and took lots of cash, and finished the day having broken the £4500 mark, and having eaten too much cake, provided by Tony. He's been even more manic than usual this week, so Mike has bought him the Little Book of Calm and made him take a day off.
Oh, it was just nice to see them all again, and knowing they were pleased to see me. (Tony had set aside the new Doctor Who novels for me to look at, and Mike was trying to get me to watch Family Guy.) And Gary had brought in a Christmas CD and persuaded the computer to play it, so we had Winter Wonderland and generous helpings of Slade, and I got back after lunch in time for a rousing rendition of Remember You're A Womble. All the customers wished me a merry Christmas, and some even expressed surprise at the fact I was back from Oxford. Near the end of the day, I was serving a woman when someone else came in and tried asking Gary and Mike for a book. After a minute, she asked, "Don't you have any girls working here?"
As the sole representative of the species, I volunteered. "I'm looking for a book that has 'big knickers' in the title," she confided. I went to find her a copy of Louise Rennison's It's Okay, I'm Wearing Really Big Knickers, and when I got back, both Mike and Gary were laughing about something.
"That woman you were serving," Gary started. "Before you went to find that book."
"What woman?" I asked, and meant it. I had, and have, absolutely no recollection of this woman. But according to Mike, she was made to wait for, "oh, about five seconds" (according to Mike), and then she flounced off muttering about the "dreadful service" and "that stupid girl!"
"Bitch," said Mike with unexpected venom. "She shouldn't be doing her Christmas shopping at five o'clock on Christmas Eve!"
There was vociferous agreement. Finally we cashed up and locked the doors, leaving tinsel and cash strewn over the till, and a very merry Christmas was wished for all. I went home pleased, but rather glad my Christmas experience was over.
But it wasn't.
eternalwings appeared with a present for me, which I absolutely loved, but I ended up feeling rather silly because I didn't have anything for her. I think I shall have to bite the bullet and actually buy presents for people, because I do not deserve all of this love. I have spent two weeks determinedly not thinking about Christmas and one week throwing up, whilst everyone esle has been being organised, and damn it, thoughtful and considerate. hathy_col has something for me too, and so many people have sent me cards, and hell, even my parents had something for me. I am a horrible person.Coming up, my fic year in review, as much about Assam as I have the courage to write, and undoubtedly some more self-flagellation. A very merry Christmas to all from this repentant Hindu. I love you all.
