Ah, Christmas time. A time to gather together with loved ones.... or with the local swamp things and zombie folk, just praying for the end of your shift to come so you can go home and sit by your lonesome, marathoning the nerdy show of the week. Which I am completely and totally fine with. I mean, that's totally not referring to me. I have a happening social life.... it just happens to involve fictional characters... still trying to figure out exactly how sad this is.
The Christmas rush should be in full swing, but it has been unseasonably quiet. And I'm not complaining. I even had two customers who absolutely adored me this weekend. But in every silver lining, there is a cloud. And this cloud consisted of two customers I got roped in to helping (thanks, n00b!). These two lovely ladies were on an epic game of "Where's Waldo" for the thing they most desired and they were willing to Amazing Race it to the ends of the earth to obtain this precious item. What could this Holy Grail of women's clothing be? Sweatpants. Well, sweat outfits to be exact. Basically the same ones that can be purchased at any department store, Wal Mart, Target, drug stores and select supermarkets. The younger adventurer made us look not only on the website, but to search stores within 150 miles to try to find these sweatpants for her elderly counterpart. When we told her that these rare pieces of attire are sold out at every possible location, she demanded to speak to someone who would be able to obtain these unusual artifacts for her. The overly dramatic attitude finally became clear when the young Indiana Jones of sweatpants told the catalogue department worker, "I've been driving around with my (seething tone) mother in law all day." And check in the "I'm OK with being a lonely nerd" column.
After these customers left, I ran straight to the fitting room, but was almost run over by a stroller. I dodged the oncoming baby-mobile just in time, but did not get a good look at the occupant. Leaving the fitting room, I realized that I was almost the victim of a hit and run with a doggy stroller... complete with doggy inside and tupperware container of treats in the back, reminiscent of a baby's Cheerio container. We'll count this as a check in the "Maybe I should get a life" column.
Driving home from the hell hole, I was in a decent mood... mostly because of the pretty damn mild temperature for December. I could even drive with the windows down... and blasting "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls and serenading the nice folk leaving the mall, complete with attempting to change my voice for each girl of the spice variety. Hey, most of those people make my life a living hell for 8 hours a day, I can torture them for a few minutes. Check in the "lonely nerd is a-ok" column. Then, "Someone like You" came on, which I dare not try to sing along to. This was not the "zig-a-zig-ah" I was looking for and I did not even have my favorite men, Ben and Jerry to cry to... well, into. Still trying to figure out which column to check...
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