Long, long ago, I spent a summer and the subsequent holiday season as a Benetton vendeuse. The pay was lousy, but my wardrobe was greatly enhanced.
Although it sparked no career aspirations, there was something satisfying about the work. It wasn't until I read this that I realized how appealing it was to my OCD aesthetic: all those crisply uniform stacks and rows.
Like the people in the article, I kept my own clothes (and linens) in the same manner until fate, cruel fate, intervened.
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2 comments:
Sure, what about us poor post-Starbucks workers who have to fight the urge to clean condiment bars any time we get coffee, anywhere? Or straighten chairs at someone's breakfast bar because in a previous life long, long ago, I was a hostess at Pizzeria Uno? Where's our Wall street coverage?
I sometimes wonder if my life might have been much different if I had done clothing retail instead of fast-food (Orange Julius if you must know).
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