How I Learned To Zoom In — Rejecting Fear And Finding Experiences That Matter
Doom defined my perception of the world. Paralysis ensured. Perhaps the narratives were true, maybe they were lies. But I'll see that through my own eyes.
Totality Versus Reality
Ideas in this age are more polarized than ever. Either I agree, or I'm against something. A concept existed in one way or the stark other – a truth or a lie.
Absolutes defined life, and there was no alternative but to bend to its will. Anger, fear, and resentment resulted.
But how could I resist these influences? They told me what and what not to believe. What to feel, and what that reflected of my character.
They chastised me for my naivety. Listening was my only option, dare I be an errant fool, a sinister person. I had no choice but to believe, for I had no other insight.
I was bombarded by the truth of this world. A sinister, dark place, where only misery and suffering awaited.
I've been employed in my first job for almost 10 months. I spent two and a half years after graduation, endlessly applying and interviewing. All to no avail. The best thing was a rejection, the worst – my humanity stripped from me entirely.
I focused on software jobs, then branched to any job involving computers. Out of state, then anywhere in the country. Then outside the country, and hell, I would've gone to Mars if I had to.
I was constantly reminded by social media and gossip, internalized ideas – it was because I had "too high expectations" (any job) and "nothing to offer" (entry-level, projects, pro bono work).
I couldn't think how much lower my expectations could get when even staying alive was considered a privilege. I couldn't get what the world wanted from me. No matter how much work I did, it was deemed "not real" by some majestic arbitrator.
My entire life was judged worthless, with no path forward, regardless of what I did.
Laughed and smirked at. Tested and prodded. Dragged out through the mud, time wasted, and ghosted. A majority of my experiences were like this. Yet despite that, I kept searching within my field – the so-called "professional" field.
No matter how difficult things got, fields such as retail, fast food, and manufacturing were never an option. Perhaps it's because society often puts down people who work there. Maybe I thought once I was in, I'd never be able to escape.
I was always bombarded with narratives on how those jobs were "low-skill" and "anyone could do them." Not that I necessarily believed them, but without my own experiences, I was not equipped to counter what I'd heard.
And what I heard were horror stories. Constant abuse from customers, managers, and co-workers. Long hours, terrible pay, and physical and mental turmoil.
I heard what would happen. They'd look at my resume, see my background, and wonder what the hell I was doing there. He's just using us for money, he must be a failure. We won't hire him.
I envisioned a life of torture and judgment. There was no way I could handle that. So I never glanced in that direction – never looked or applied for the longest time.
It wasn't until a second year of unemployment passed, with no end in sight, that I finally pulled the trigger and applied for a customer service associate position (i.e., cashier).
Laugh at me. Judge me. I won't get the job anyway. I've got nothing left to live for anyway.
Well, I received a call requesting an interview the next day. I went in without even having submitted a resume. I felt nervous when I handed over my paper, waiting for the moment I'd be exposed.
But nothing happened. The manager offhandedly remarked that I had a lot of projects, and jumped right into the interview.
Due to the pandemic and how remote hiring worked, this was my first in-person meeting regarding a position. Perhaps some aspects could be attributed to that, but something felt... different.
The energy was low, but not in a negative way. More of a chill vibe. Not that I can talk, but the conversation felt more genuine. Not fake.
I wasn't entirely confident, but awkward as always. But the next day, I got another call.
After careful consideration, I was being offered the position.
The first day was scary. I was shadowing when my new co-worker let me try ringing up a customer. Of course, that first person gave some sass, though it was only a few words.
Not the best start. The prophecy was becoming true. But that wasn't the end of the story.
While I found the level of stupidity that exists in retail to be true, I also learned there are ways to mitigate its effect. More importantly, while bad experiences are inevitable with volume, there are more good people.
Things aren't always perfect. Conflict and drama occur. We're often overwhelmed and short-staffed, doing a hundred things at once.
But I interact well and get to socialize with people I've come to know. It's a supportive environment. I get thanked frequently and get to help people. I have conversations and receive praise for good work.
We celebrate others. I even get free food sometimes, and I've made sure to pass that generosity along, as it makes me feel better, too.
And I get to challenge and push myself. I get agency, for the most part. Ordering expense items, printing signs.
I feel this thrill like I'm waiting for Amazon packages, building fixtures in the spirit of playing with Legos, all while spending someone else's money. It's fun.
I was promoted to lead in a few months. I find time, sometimes outside of work, to research WIC numbers and processes. Yet, according to internet scrolling, that made me a chump and a corporate slave.
I just didn't understand. I was just lucky. It's been less than a year, and I think I know everything. The truth was, retail, and by extension, the world, was a horrible place.
My experiences meant nothing to change that – sorry, not sorry.
For much of my life, I've been conditioned to believe what I'm told, rather than what I see with my own eyes. It was a battle with only two outcomes – I'm right and everyone is wrong, or vice versa.
Why can't both be correct? Or, might both be wrong? The truth is, nuance beyond a binary choice exists.
Crazy things happen. A drug-induced guy yelling and slamming Coke bottles at the pharmacy window. One day, an idiot was shooting a gun in the parking lot for no reason.
I've experienced these internet-level stories in reality. Reading them used to invoke deathly dread within me. The real-life events are more than the highlights and the pessimistic interpretations, though.
I've grown better equipped to deal with adversity as I've navigated these events. They're harrowing, no doubt. Yet I understand how to minimize bad situations and act on my intuition.
I've also learned how fleeting life is, especially when there's something to work toward. No matter how hard the day is, the memories are overwritten, fading away into obscurity.
Working in retail has been a net positive, if not a life-changing experience. While the suffering I endured in tech was harrowing, I cannot imagine how different I would be had I not taken a stop at retail.
Perhaps my social ability would remain magnitudes worse. Minor events would traumatize me for months. I would continue isolation and mental deterioration. And I'd lack insight and be out of touch.
But that's wrong. None of this is because of retail.
My experiences don't define retail holistically. Rather, they entail my experiences at Store #XXXXX, with my present colleagues and manager. The horror stories are likely true, if just exaggerated.
In another universe, my superior might've yelled and screamed at me daily. Customers might've threatened worse things or become violent frequently. I may be the exception.
None of that matters. The field is too vast to define under a single umbrella. With millions of workers, tens of thousands of stores, each individual is bound to see something differently.
The environment I've found – the kindness, camaraderie, connections, and challenges. These are what affect me. Everything else may as well not exist, because they do not in my world.
Instead, I need to zoom in and focus on that patch of grass in the savannah. Or perhaps it's not a savannah, but a desert. I can cultivate that patch, let it grow and thrive regardless.
The grains of sand bear no importance to it's well-being.
It's human nature to generalize, and I'm no less susceptible. I once feared even going outside, due to how dangerous the world seemed. My negative experiences with the internet detached me.
I've found that connection is undermined in favor of sensation and advertisement online. I had abandoned hope for mental stability. Yet I've also met a few people I enjoyed writing to through less mainstream systems.
I always sought to see the forest for the trees – it was mandatory. Always big ideas, big pictures. Everything was beyond my existence, and I was selfish and naive to believe otherwise.
But perhaps missing the trees for the forest is an equal detriment. Ideas are generalized until individuality is diluted. Nuance and detail are obscured, and control is relinquished.
I become blind to what's in front of me, too scared to venture off the beaten path – or rather, what it appears to be.
Maybe retail truly is a hellscape. Tech has definitely felt like one. Maybe the world is sinister. Maybe I'm naive. Despite that, I'll keep searching.
Forget about everything else. I'll zoom in on a tiny person in a tiny store, on this little rock in space. I'll find the calm amidst the rough seas. I'll see the light within the darkness.
I'll find what pushes me forward and brings me happiness.
I'll find the experiences that matter to me.
Thank you for reading.
You've reached the end for now. But this is only the beginning.