Contrary to what I believed my past 24 (dear Lord) years of my life, I actually do have a lot of trouble sleeping alone. And contrary to what a lot of people believe about me, I don't have crazy one night stands or wild fornication parties. That's only on Tuesday nights to fill the void left by Lost. Yup, I'm *that* kind of needy girl. Except my significant other is a dog. So I sit in my room, listening to the soothing sounds of Three's Company until the wee hours of the morning. Unfortunately, this doesn't lend well to the "customer service industry" and my Keurig only holds so much power.
As you might have guessed, I'm a dog person. Actually, an animal person. I love all God's creatures. Except for birds because those were sent by the goddamn devil himself. Yes, I realize they evolved from dinosaurs, but they should have just stayed the way they were. I don't hate all birds... cardinals do have a pretty sweet mohawk and sparrows make me feel like a Disney princess... as long as they don't get too close. I've started to realize that a lot of the female customers that walk into the hellhole are a lot like the birds that I so despise. They are either short, stout and walk somewhat bow legged appearing chicken-like or long and lean, strutting like an ostrich. The worst is when they're none of the above and just believe that they are a beautiful peacock who deserves to be waited on hand and foot.... even though the males are the pretty ones, but you get my gist. The one thing all these birds have in common is their squawking. I truly believe that these women work at having such shrill voices. It's like it's a contest or something and they just keep getting louder. Or I have built up my caffeine tolerance and need to add a cup or two of coffee to my daily routine so I'll be able to stand these biddies.
So with the bird analogy in my mind and a coffee mug in hand, I entered the hell hole today with a less than friendly demeanor. I felt like I was Tippi Hedron on a boat heading straight to Bodega Bay. Then, one customer gave me bad flashbacks of being chased by chickens on my uncle's farm. It all started when I pulled a cart out the fitting room, she strutted over like it was feeding time. Now, all of the items on this cart were plentiful in the rest of the store, but she had to pick at this cart. While my supervisor sat there watching me and the cart expectantly. I was not going to take the "feed" away from this lady, in fear of getting pecked by her beak... or worse, hear her squawking. So I patiently waited till she was done and I went on my merry way, putting the rest of the clothes away. Then, about 10 minutes later, I hear a chirping behind me that sounded like "Cart.... caaaart." I looked around for a manager or another associate, since I assumed those would be the only other people discussing a cart, but didn't see any. Then the chirping turned into a loud screeching "CAAAAAAART!" I turned and saw the chicken lady running towards me, bingo wings flapping in the wind with a few items in her hand. She had followed me to the other side of the store because she got the items on the silver cart I had in tow. She handed me the clothes and I went through them to discover they were all dresses that belonged in the area where she tried them on and there were numerous other silver racks. I guess she must have had her homing device set to mine. Lucky me. And I didn't even have any bread to give her.
No comments:
Post a Comment