Dear Glitter Dust Cloud,
Oh, glitter dust cloud that hangs in front of my register as people pile thousands upon thousands of ornaments and knickknacks along the table, how I loathe you.
I’m not sure how many of you little multicolored specks I have inhaled and choked upon. I don’t know how many times I’ve gone into a coughing fit, eyes watering, face red, as my customers just continue along, filling my space with more and more dots of doom.
Whoever said the sign of a good Christmas meant for you to fill your home to the brim with little particles of shine has probably never stood in front of countless people rushing with glitter infused things.
It also doesn’t help that all the registers are by the doors, so when one opens, a tumultuous hurricane rises up and attacks my face with a force that leaves me washing large amounts of glitter from my hair for four days straight.
“Is there glitter on my face?” has become the regular custom for the cashiers to say after a particularly large crowd of people.
“You have glitter on you, ahahaha, you look like a Christmas ornament yourself!” Is the OH SO FUNNY joke that our customers constantly say, as if no one in the world could have possibly thought of that joke from looking at me. As if I’m supposed to laugh uproariously at the mere idea that I look a fairy puff princess.
But I digress. It’s not my customers I abhor. It’s you. You, glittery cloud. You fine mess of teeny-tiny little circles of pure childish gleam.
I despise you…
With much hate and passive aggression,