On work, and the madness that will completely envelope my life starting tomorrow.

I work as a cashier at a grocery store.

In other words, it's my job to ring up a countless series of goods such as food, toiletries, copies of Cosmopolitan and take your money. It is also my job to do it with a smile. Being a fairly happy-go-lucky... sort-of-ish people person, this really isn't a big deal. It's not hard work, I'm good at small talk, and it's only on Saturdays and Sundays so it doesn't completely consume my life. However, we've been handing out fliers for the last few weeks with two words that send a shock of dread through my innards very similar to the one an individual would feel when faced with hungry, raging mama bear that has just emerged from a long hibernation to see that you have been playing tag with her cubs for the better part of the morning.

Those two words, ladies and gentlemen, are “Meat Sale.” And it starts tomorrow.

Now, I feel like I should just come right out and say this now: I love meat. With a strong, Irish, meat-and-potatoes upbringing, how could I not? I mean, it's amazing. It's delicious and nutritious and (in some cases) tastes just like chicken! I am proud of my meat-eating habits and just talking about it makes my mouth water and sends my tummy just a-grumblin' for a huge New York Strip cooked in a fashion similar to the one you would get having just run it through a warm room and slapped it in front of me. I love my carnivorous side and doubt I could ever part with it.

So, then, some of you may be thinking: Kami, if you love meat so much, why does the sale terrify you like this?

That question can be answered very simply: Because it is a bat-shit crazy environment that makes me want to rip my hair out.

It's insanity! It's people in and out from open to close, carts stacked high and overflowing with raw chicken, beef, shrimp, sausage, and pork. It's a tsunami of meat. For four to five hours, I will stand at my register and drag the skinned and raw animal carcasses encased in Styrofoam and cellophane across the belt and stuff it into paper or plastic bags depending on the customer's preference, I will hit the ENTER button on my screen and recite whatever price the computer gives me, take the money, stuff the debit/credit/food stamp receipt into my drawer, run the check through the... check machine thingy and hand over the slip of paper and whatever change they need; the proof of their happy-go-lucky, meat eating persons and they will sidle out of the store, carts swelling under the weight of plastic bags stuffed with meat meat meat meat meat.

The lines fill quickly, and every five minutes, I'm calling for head cashiers to take free registers, Front End boys to come and aid me in bagging the groceries so nobody has to wait longer than a few minutes before it's their turn. Stock boys and the managers of the meat department run around like their heads are on fire, filling and refilling pallets of meat so the stock doesn't run out.

It's a madhouse.

I have only worked one other meat sale before, and have pretty much memorized the busy hours on your normal, everyday weekend during the shifts I'm assigned. I know about when I'll be able to stand at the front of my lane and chit-chat with the other cashiers that are working with me and the cashier manning the U-SCAN just to the left of the lanes we occupy. I know when I'll be able to help them bag to save the front end boys on call the time of running around to the lane in need for a few minutes until someone walks into my own lane with a cart or basket of groceries. It's a comfortable schedule, it's what I'm used to, and I don't handle abrupt changes well.

Since we started handing out the fliers, I have been trying to prepare myself for the explosion of customers that will occur this Sunday, and next Saturday and Sunday when I'm working, but it feels like no amount of preparation is helping and I'll simply have to tug at the waistband of my jeans, brush my bangs out of my face and juggernaut myself into it.

The one good thing about having such an insanely successful sale, is the velocity with which the shift goes by. I no sooner walk in, set up my drawer and claim my spot at the register before someone at the Service Center is calling me up to tell me that it's time to count out my drawer and go home.

Make no mistake, I actually like my job. I like the people that I work with, and get a lot of very interesting characters on a day to day basis, that often make myself and the other members of my family look like normal, perfectly upstanding citizens. Despite the occasional screaming and inconsolable toddler, it really is a fun place to work.

I just have to keep my cool for the next week and try not to let my anxiety about this turn me into a puddle of nerves once I step through the threshold.

Tomorrow, my grocery store life implodes. Wish me luck!