Again, my favorite part of the job dealt with the stock itself, rather than the customers. I enjoyed helping people when they desired assistance, yet revolted internally against the thought of administering high key sales pitches to the public. This was the only objectionable aspect of my employment at the store, for occasionally the manager would encourage me to be more aggressive toward customers and try to sell merchandise to those who had no intention of buying anything. Admittedly, I would have preferred to hide behind racks of sweaters, sizing and straightening, than to approach a stranger and ask, "Could I interest you in a dress today?" followed by a persuasive cascade of sweetness and sales talk. Such tactics never worked for me and I found I sold more through helpful suggestions than flamboyant appeals. Nevertheless, when sales dropped after Christmas at an alarming rate, reflecting the fact that everyone's closets were full and their wallets empty, only the best sales people were given enough hours to add up to a worthwhile pay check. During this decline, I spent most of my working hours in the storeroom, unloading and hanging new merchandise. This suited me perfectly, despite the few hours and accompanying meager pay; if only I could have found a part-time job dealing exclusively with stock work, I would have been in a state of bliss, able to simultaneously work and think. . . and be paid for my time. As the working hours decreased and I found that I had spare time beyond that which was required to accomplish my homework, I sought excuses to obtain one of the cars and escape my self-imposed prison at home. With friends or alone, I would shop, run errands, or simply drive around the city streets. The car became a symbol of freedom and attainable destinations, an inanimate capsule devoid of judgemental constraints. In the car I could whoop and holler, cry or laugh; I could vent my exasperation to the music on the radio, or wallow in a pool of depression without spreading the effect upon anyone else. I was essentially adrift on a sea of emotions, constantly hurled from happiness to depression and back again. As contradictory as it may sound, I believe the instability of my emotions was the element which permitted me to maintain overall sanity; instability was one thing on which I could depend, for no emotion seethed within me long enough to create duress of itself.