I reluctantly went to work in the local department store. Actually, I thought I was only going to work there for a very short time. I had a boyfriend and planned to get married quickly. He graduated from high school the year before me and attended a university in Upper State New York. He was studying journalism and working at the university's radio station. I visited him occasionally. Each time I went up there, he seemed a little different. 

In retrospect, the problem was simple. I worked amongst many older, more mature people, and he was very involved in college life. I grew up quickly, and he still acted like a boy. The relationship persevered until his graduation. I attended along with his mother, and then we returned to his home for a vacation. It swiftly became obvious that we had nothing in common, and after I returned home, we broke up by mutual agreement. I felt relieved to close the door on that part of my life.      

I continued to work--my novel hovering in the background of my mind. I was quickly promoted from a clerk to a division manager and took over the lingerie department. It was an interesting position. I learned a lot of intimate details about the customers who shopped in that area. As much as I would have instead worked on my novel, I did learn a lot about people and their peculiarities. Things can take a bizarre turn in a department that deals with intimate apparel. 

Later, I became a floor supervisor and managed three departments: Accessories, Lingerie, and Dresses. Finally, I began working as an assistant manager in charge of payroll, petty cash, and the in-store post office. I kept the accounts, made bank deposits, and opened and closed the store.

I can say I get along with most people, but a store manager arrived who was simply impossible to get along with. It was like working for Captain Bligh (of Mutiny on the Bounty fame). The whole store was in revolt and ready to explode. One of the floor managers went berserk and tore up most of the displays. 911 was called, and she was taken away by ambulance with a police escort. 

It became impossible to work under tumultuous circumstances. An opportunity arose for a manager's position in a smaller specialty store owned by the same company. I grabbed it immediately before the other managers learned of it. 

The new store was in a local outlet center. It started out crazy busy with customers, and people arriving by the busload. Although the days were exhausting, it was a happy place compared to where I came from. There were three co-managers on staff, and suddenly, one began to believe she was superior to the other two. The situation brewed quietly for a time, then exploded. She contacted the division manager and finally approached the owner, demanding a high salary. She managed to get herself fired as a result. 

Things settled down, and, with two managers left, we reorganized and moved forward. Eventually, another manager came on board, and everyone started getting along again. We did our own maintenance and, when shipments arrived, had to unload the truck. The maintenance was limited and easy to handle. Unloading the truck was another task altogether. If you have ever heard the quote: backward and in high heels, that's what we did. We dragged in heavy totes backward and in heels. Back then, we weren't allowed to wear sneakers or jeans to work. We dressed professionally in clothing that we sold in the store.   

Due to mall mismanagement, the outlet center changed hands several times while I worked there. Finally, the stores surrounding us began to go out of business. The hustle and bustle of the early days died down to nothing. The entire place became a ghost town. Finally, only two stores were left. A hobby store and the one I worked at. The hobby store closed at 6 PM, and we were left open until 9 PM. 

We complained about being 'sitting ducks,' but the home company assured us that we were safe. Security guards were on duty until 10 PM. That seemed acceptable until the mall management decided to let the security team go. Our complaints went out again but landed on deaf ears. We were told we could handle the situation. Fine and dandy--until we were held up at gunpoint. Thankfully, no one was hurt (and thankfully, it wasn't my night to close). 

Even so, the higher-ups were still reluctant to close the store early. After all, they never knew if we might get a customer during the after-dinner hours. (There is a small chance of that since people don't generally leave their cars when they see a darkened strip mall). We finally convinced them by partition and began closing at 6 PM along with the hobby shop. 

The hobby shop went out of business rather quickly, and our owners decided to close up shop. I and a few other employees returned to the main store. I was right back where I started with my novel still on the backburner.