Fort Mac is like Las Vegas; no one should actually live there.

So you've finally guilted me into blogging. Also, it just so happened that today is my day off... work is good. I knew where I work and who I work with is great, but I never fully appreciated it until I got sent somewhere else. I would not wish Fort McMurray on anyone. Seriously. It's full of crazy, GREEDY people. When I found out I was going, the first thing everyone said to me was "Don't get knocked up." I thought the talk about women not working there and cranking out kids was an overblown stereotype - and then promptly, upon arriving, found out it's true. I have never seen so many pregnant women in my entire life. For real. It's creepy. They really don't work, get pregnant, and spend their husbands' money. And they've got a lot of it. Forget the gas crisis out there - all you see on the streets are HUGE trucks, SUVs, and luxury gas guzzlers. I can't help but think perhaps they're compensating for something...? Anyway, the store was a short-staffed, ill-run, under-stocked, messy, dusty sauna. I nearly fainted. I called my boss up after getting to the hotel (which I stayed in illegally, by the way. That's how bad the housing crisis is out there.) that first night and was like, "Jenn, I love you! Get me out of here!" The staff would watch me as I stocked the store, chattering on behind the counter. Oh yeah, they're also a high volume store, so there'd be at least 10 people in there at all times, and none of them helped them out at all. They literally watched me as I ran around the store and then rang in my sales - huge sales - under their numbers. I've never been so happy to be home. Really. I think Fort Mac is like Las Vegas; no one should actually live there.