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I have been waiting all year to post this.

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I applied at a chain bookstore when I was 20 for a seasonal temp position, on a drunken whim. I knew I’d never get it. I was a high school drop-out with nothing but food service, assembly line and “freelance cable access camera person” on my application. It was the original location of the chain, the ur-store that all the others across the world were based on. It was staffed by original employees of the indie store it had been, unreconstructed pro-labor anti-corporate problem-causers. They still had a “book test” then, which was about two dozen titles and you had to write in the authors name, or as close as you could recall. (This was later made illegal.)

I don’t know how, but I managed to score the fourth of four positions. My family were all very excited, maybe there was a chance I wasn’t a fuckup after all (they were wrong.) I attended a week of training in the nicest pants and shirt I had. It was a wonderland. The pay was better than any restaurant gig I’d ever had, I didn’t have fish juice or backwashed coffee in my socks when I got home, and they all had a good laugh at the end of my first shift when I asked about brooms and emptying the garbage. (That was just part of every job, right?)

And all day, every day, it was books. Books on subjects I’d never heard of. Books by amazing people I hadn’t even known existed. I was assigned a section to maintain, one that nobody else wanted (religion & spirituality) and I devoured it. I borrowed and spent time with all the big sellers, and then branched into the books those books had recommended. I talked to the people who came in to browse those shelves, and I learned what they shared. I took on a second section (humor & occult) and began cross-shelving. I shared smokebreaks with choreographers and cartoonists and organizers and musicians and so many lost souls searching for their doctorates and people from my age to 80.

And while a lot of the customers were, you know, customers, sometimes people would come in with quests. This was pre-search-engine, pre-Wikipedia, and if you needed to know everything about the US Naval Academy or the childhood of president Taft or the migratory habits of the swallow, you went to the library or the bookstore. And while I certainly didn’t know any of that stuff, I learned how to find out.

At the end of the season I was let go with thanks. There were three permanent positions and four seasonals... soooo... so I went back to the deli and asked for my barista gig back. A week later I came in to pick up my last check and the on-desk AM was frantic. “They’ve been looking for you! There’s another position open and they want to hire you! But your phone doesn’t seem to work?” (The phone didn’t work because I didn’t like paying my phone bill and constantly abused the voice mail system with five-minute long outgoing messages from various unconventional books.)

I stayed there for about three years, and it was my education. I jumped around from section to section, department to department, gobbling down books and music and film like a black hole, like Pantagruel, like the toxic forest. It shaped me in so many fundamental ways.

And I learned about corporations. I learned how easy it becomes to shrug and say “I’m just a cog! What control do I have?” I learned that if they can fuck you for another dollar, they’ll do it. I learned about contracts and distribution and logistics, I learned that it’s easier and cheaper to destroy books than store them, when you can just reprint. I learned about waste and shrink and volume discounts and how selling the hot new title at a deeper discount than anyone else could afford would guarantee shoppers would always come to you first. I learned that it’s “good business” to lose money and wreck the industry for whatever you could grab. I learned about corporate toadies who would go into other book and music shops and ask to see merchandise that was behind a sale date, so they could contact the publisher and get the indie store fined, or blacklisted. (I never did this, and I bullied the managers who did.) I learned that a CEO could take all his compensation in stock, hire all his buddies and pay them in stock, drive up the price and then all quit on the same day and cash out, tanking the benefits of tens of thousands of employees, costing people their homes and their children’s educations.

I started shopping exclusively at co-ops and small businesses and owner-operated shops. I might have started to forget to charge customers for their purchases. I may have started leaving locked display cases for high-end items unlocked. It was a long time ago, it’s hard to be sure.

Eventually I quit. I loved being there, among the co-workers and the customers, the thousands of books and albums, but I just couldn’t keep taking their checks while my friends at the indies were getting ground into the dust. I took a job assembling patio furniture and glazing windows, and later moved to the city where I had some other book and publishing and printing adventures, but I’ve always wished I could go back and visit that place, the way people go back to visit their old schools. It was a splendid moment that we won’t see again.

The takeaway is that while I treasure the time I spent there and the education it provided, I also got to see a preview of where capitalism leads and how glaringly unsustainable and cruel and stupid and short-sighted the whole goddamn endeavor is. A*mazon isn’t some cruelty inflicted on us by aliens, it’s a totally predictable outcome of the “must grow at all costs must dominate must wipe out every other competitor” mentality.

So fuck the algorithm and fuck the voluntary surveillance state and fuck making it easier for them to categorize you and quantify you and profile you. Don’t cooperate.

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Abled gays celebrating marriage equality: well we sure do have nowhere to go from here when it comes to marriage rights. Gay rights!

Me, a disabled lesbian trying to get on ssi thinking about how I will not be able to marry my girlfriend if I do because I can't have more than $2000 to my name at a time and they count a spouse's income towards that: wow .. gay rights ...

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Grey Joan 38 and baby food

Your sailor nickname is [what color your shirt is] [your first pet’s name]. You are [phone battery percentage] years old. Your ship is the HMS [last thing you ate].

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good morning everyone!!! Guess what day it is

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from a fellow neurodiverse & nonbinary & prospective convert lesbian:

happy lesbian lovers day! 💖

[ ID: The “I wish all…” Bugs Bunny meme reading: I wish all black lesbians, trans lesbians, asian lesbians, nonbinary lesbians, jewish lesbians, he/him lesbians, muslim lesbians, fat lesbians, neurodiverse lesbians, and disabled lesbians a very pleasant and safe lesbian visibility day. ]

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I have been waiting all year to post this.

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JUST LET ME BE.

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Advice for the girls of FIRST robotics

People stare

It’s not just the teen boys competing, it’s the coaches and the mentors and the parents. Some are staring because they find you hot, some stare because they’re shocked a girl can pick up a tool, and a few stare because they’re eyeing out the competition. Keep your head up and working, don’t let them know you’re bothered.

Competitions are not period friendly

Bring your biggest tampons and pads, or better yet get a menstrual cup. They are a lifesaver, and if you get your period during competition most of the time some angelic team leaves tampons and pads in the bathroom. Don’t be afraid to swipe a few, none of us are here to judge. If you’re out of options, ask another girl. Most girls who have been in robotics for a few years have learned to pack tampons even when we don’t need them.

Being on drive team can be hellish

The amount of female driving jokes is overwhelmingly annoying. Ignore them and smash their robot with yours if necessary, and don’t let the grown male drive coaches yell at you. When this occurs plant your feet and yell back because you cannot let them intimidate you. They are grown men in a child’s sport and do not belong anyway.

Use what your momma gave you

I cannot count the amount of times I have gotten parts from other teams by batting my eyes and twirling my hair. Use your looks to your advantage. Play dirty, because until boys can keep in check their hormones, pretty girls will always be a weak spot.

You will get asked out

It’s inevitable. Being a genius in a male dominated sport is hot, and if they’re cute then go for it. If you decide to date someone outside of your team beware, long distance relationships are extremely difficult and you can make your team angry by dating someone from the other side.

RAPUNZEL PUT UP YOUR HAIR

Seriously. Your hair will get caught and ripped if you don’t. Also avoid long nails because they can rip on the robot while repairing it. If you’re going to wear makeup buy the most durable stuff possible because you’ll likely sweat it off. I also suggest contacts because I hated wearing prescription glasses and safety glasses, but you do you boo.

It’s okay to want to look pretty while working

I know I just said tie up your hair and avoid long nails but honey if you want a full face of industrial makeup then go for it. Do that compelx braid or apply fake lashes, just make sure you’ll be safe at competition while looking like a catch.

You will be treated differently

You are ahead of your time. It’s not your fault that when the boys get angry the coaches brush it off but when you flip a lid they question your competence. It is okay to get angry at your team, god knows what they’re doing right now. People may try to take power tools from you or say that you can’t handle the hard work but newsflash, you can handle it and you’ll prove them wrong.

Don’t listen to the haters

I was in FRC all four years and if I had listened to those who told me I don’t belong then I would have been out my second year. Speak up, don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty, and don’t let cocky boys tell you to go back to the kitchen. I wrote this because when I started robotics I didn’t know what to expect and because of what I experienced I will not return to help my team or first as a whole. This does not mean I hated all four years. I made friends for life from this league and learned invaluable lessons. I also had some moments where I wanted to quit the team. First was a huge part of my life and I wouldn’t trade my experiences for anything.

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How toxic of a friend do you have to be to have ruined Queen?