A Job at a Currency Exchange Store

I’ve been working at the currency exchange for almost a year. Although it is called a currency exchange we won’t exchange foreign currency. This upsets many customers who show up with a fist full of Euros. I enjoy the irony.

I also enjoy witnessing the effects of bullet resistant glass on people’s personalities. Often new employees – people who under normal circumstances would be the sweetest and most helpful in the world – turn into rude, petulant jerks behind that glass. Amazingly, most customers do not complain. Somehow the glass makes the employee an authority figure.

I guess my biggest complaint about the job is there is no challenge. I have worked jobs in retail and food service, where many customers feel the need to shit all over you. I’ve also worked in risky environments: a biker tattoo parlor and the midnight shift at the only 24 hour market in a high crime area. At my old jobs had to deal with drunk bikers, junkie prostitutes, pregnant tweens, and gang members. God how I miss them. Now I have to deal with bitchy bitchy housewives, their flabby self-righteous blowhard husbands, and their shitty cellphone addicted brats.

Behind that glass, there is no challenge. When someone yells at me, I don’t care. If anything, I laugh, because what on earth are they going to do? Have me fired? That may be a blessing. Despite all of this, I somehow have the reputation as being the most levelheaded employee in the company.¬†What I really need is a job with more risk. I no longer feel the need to rise to the occasion. When I worked at the market I kept a baseball bat under the counter to keep the customers in line. Now, when a housewife snaps at me – I don’t bother voicing a cutting remark. It’s that damn glass. It makes things so impersonal.