My world has become increasingly distraught and interesting in the past months. Certainly living in such a trite and provincial town such as Jackson has played a great part in that. After arriving here I held a service industry job for about three weeks. That's all it took this time around to quickly throw away my quasi-dreams of serving rich, shameless mouths... but the money was good.
Now I work in the back of a thriftshop collecting and sorting donations. We like to call it the East Jackson Landfill due to the amount of trash compiled daily in our little blue dumpster. We fill the fucker up by noon some days. And all the while, people jabber of "maybe someone could use this," or "this is in good shape," as they donate a torn stained blankey of their third a.d.d. child.
An interesting phenomena I'm beginning to observe comes from the Hispanic community, which easily grabs 40% of the population. Ahh, the mexicans. At first I found it quaint and almost charming that for free I was able to daily practice my tattered spanish on many of the customers to the store. Then it began to dawn on me that often there was no choice because these people can't speak english anyhow.
With many hours to blow in this fashion as every Mexican tries to barter even the cheapest prices, I began compiling a list of why mexicans may be stuck in the 1980's. #1~ loitering in small rural towns. #2~ sweatpants and warmups, headbands. #3~ pimped up grand am turquoise cruisers and toyota trucks with tinted windows and spoilers. #4~ black guess jeans with white sneakers. #5~ mullets and rattails. #6~ whistling or hissing at women between gold capped teeth.
No comments:
Post a Comment