I Hate Me

So it's come to this.
Tonight I loathe myself for becoming that which I most hate.

Well, not the ultimate hate of hates; but I do dislike what I've done.
In a desperate attempt to appease the dark gods of retail, I pressured a warranty into a sale. Granted, I actually gave her a free leather case and set of batteries with the purchase, the mere fact that I pushed the sale is enough for disgust.

I also had to give sales away to other sales clerks for fear that the sale would effect my 'margins'. I don't even know what that means! Yet the mere thought of one awakening from its' eternal slumber, roused by something I had done or had failed to do, struck a cold fear into my heart.

So here I sit in knotted guilt, torn between two identical deaths. One where I appease my employer and push empty air into a customer's palette or I give into my own desires to be an actually helpful human being. One ends in the end of my employment. The other is an end to my humanity.

Neither seems profitable. Neither will wash away its' greasy stain from my soul or my permanent employee record.

You will be my witness, gentle reader, that if I do not break these shackles of sales by the coming of the New Year that I shall cease to be human.

Or at least I'll have a better understanding of drug abuse.