When getting dressed, choosing pants is always a tricky ordeal. The best test is simply grab one pair at a time and smell the crotch. If you can smell it, count on others smelling it. The bad part is when you have to choose between the severities of smells. But barring any odors or visible stains, blue jeans can be worn indefinitely.

        I've worn the same pair to work for a week straight. You might think I'm weird for that, but do you even pay attention to pants from day to day? As long as there are no identifying marks on a pair to differentiate one from another, they don't stand out enough to merit the scorecard. Besides, customers only see me from the waist up. I could wear my boxers with a T-shirt and as long as they get their cigarettes and soda, the fact that I don't even try to conceal uninhibited frontal bulge is of no concern for them. I'm just a faceless local drug-dealer. And pant-less.

        Today at work, I worked with a new employee. His name is Mark and he's a high school junior. Rumor has it he's taking my spot when I go back to college. My job, along with everything else on a checklist behind the register, is to train him how to do each and every duty listed.

        For those curious of what it is I do, the following will answer this closely guarded secret...

        Run the register:

        This is pretty straightforward. People have groceries or snacks, so I ring up the prices. You might find this surprising, but a register keypad can look daunting the first time you see it. But give it three weeks and it's easier than typing a resume for a new job. After adding it up, I say, "That will be..." Or, if I'm feeling creative and personable, perhaps it's, "This comes to.." No matter what, it's always three words before the total. "Your total is..." "Please pay me..." "The amount is..." Really, there are a countless numbers of variations.

        Stock the cooler:

        We have a really huge cooler in the back of the store where all of our drinks and meat are found. You've seen them. I'm the guy who makes sure it's kept full of things for customers to indulge in. The catch is, it's fucking freezing in there. Okay, so maybe not freezing because then your Coca-Cola would be an Icee, but it's damn cold. I wear a jacket and gloves while stocking it.

        Make sandwiches:

        We have a deli beside the registers. If someone comes in and decides only a handmade six inch turkey sandwich, complete with mayonnaise, mustard, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, pickles, black pepper, salt, swiss cheese, banana peppers, olives, green peppers, and a toothpick can fill them, I have to set aside my register duties to make it. Yes, the person who exchanges an untold amount of disease-carrying currency also makes your sandwiches. Sure, I wear gloves. But don't overlook the diseases (just in case you decide to come in one day during a rush and have me make you a preferred customer by default).

        Stock the shelves:

        In theory, anytime I have free time, I'm supposed to grab a cart and refill the shelves with recently bought items. It all depends on who I am working with. If I like my coworker and my boss isn't looming over my shoulder, I'll just stay up front and carry on in conversation. If I don't, this is a necessary duty and I must give it my full attention while the other employee mans the registers for any random customers. The importance is magnified with there's a rush and I must let a disgruntled coworker manage the front alone.

        Keep the outside lot clean:

        This involves going outside with a broom and sweeping up cigarette butts and articles of trash. It's really not important, since I think the wind keeps homeostasis fairly level from month to month. But like stocking the shelves, this part of the job is referred to if I want to escape the front for some reason (ie: coworker, boss, customers, work, etc).

        Maintain the fountain soda supply level:

        This is usually a late-night aspect of the job. The number of cups available for people to fill is usually incredibly low at the end of everyday but hardly ever runs out. If my boss ever comes in the mornings and sees empty cups beside the fountain machine, he'll disregard anything else not done and focus purely on this. I think this is his main source of income. Imagine that, in a store with thousands of items for sale, our paychecks are dependent on liquid syrup that is instantaneously mixed with hydrogen pressure and water.

        Sweep, mop, and lock everything up:

        This comes after we close. I'm supposed to sweep the store then go over the floors with a mop. Sometimes when nothing's happening after work, I'll make sure to cover every inch because I do like to do my job, when possible. But when I'm in a rush, there are only key spots that truly need the attention of a nightly mop. High traffic areas such as the path to the cooler are necessities each night. The floor behind the registers is another. This is called spot-mopping and is a practice of every convenience store employee in the nation.

        Have the tills ready for the next day:

        This is when I consider my job to be more important than what it really is. I suddenly go from a low-education dimwit to a pseudo-banker. This is my favorite part of the job, though the reasons could be unconscious rather that illusions of grandeur. Thousands of dollars pass between my fingers as I separate and face all of the bills. I then put two-hundred of it in each till and lock it in the safe for the employees the next morning. With a job finished, I start the alarm and get the hell out of Dodge.

        There are, of course, the small parts of the job that really separate a fun day from one of monotony. Dusting, check maintenance, pumping old peoples' gas, busting underage smokers (a highlight), having to restock a customer's items because their debit card had insufficient funds (a low light), and other fill-in-the-blank responsibilities. And, training your replacement (I'm still on the fence with this one).

        I think with even the most advanced job in the world, there are still the small things that prevent it from being the perfect job. So don't think I am just lazy or not a good worker. But I am starting on the lowest level of the economy, so I can't even relish in the positive aspects of the most advanced job in the world (improved finger dexterity... that's what my job offers). Oh, and maybe a free five minutes here or there, void of any watchful eyes of the public or the boss, which gives me a chance to jot this stuff down... time to go back to work.