Bras in the Face!

I did inventory last week, rounding out the end of my seasonal retail work. Good God. I've done inventory before but it was never so painful. Three nights of beeping and counting into the wee hours of the night and early morning. Thank you, not. The first night was was the worst. Even though I was the shortest person around, I somehow got stuck with the wall fixtures. This required me climbing ladders and standing on tip toes and wrestling heavy mannequins. I was also stuck with an old school dinosaur gun which had to be held with both hands and didn't scan a damn thing. And while I'm working with the dino, I have to somehow free up enough of the hands to move the merchandise. It was like a puzzle, I tell you. Hand cramps were creeping up on me left and right. And the bras. There were at one point 40 bras just hitting me in the face. Quite cumbersome to say the least. I overheard a 50-something co-worker say counting all the lingerie was making her horny which I found to be both funny and horrifying. I also had to count endless pairs of tights which made me hate tights which caused me concern because I also hate pants and that doesn't leave me with many options in regards to the lower region. Perhaps worst of all was the elevator music that never ceased. SO BAD. If this was really on in an elevator, I would be sure to take the stairs is all I'm saying. That night I dreamed that I was doing inventory and then the dream sequence immediately flashed to me driving off of a cliff, dead serious. I made sure to drive extra carefully the next couple of nights.