Just Another Day
Aug. 26th, 2008 02:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
float_on_alrightAs you can imagine, when a store is short staffed and everyone is on limited hours, everyone tends to do a little of everything. For a while today, I was working the register so some one else could go to dinner. I'm going through my script, my brain far, far away drinking wine in my back yard on a cool evening.
"Do you have a rewards card?" I continue through my "script".
"Oh dear, I think you're sitting on my wallet."
I look at my legs to make sure I'm still standing at the register as I believe I have been for approximately the last thirty-four minutes, then look at the pile of books in front of me to make sure she didn't mean that the books were on top of her wallet (which they weren't),
"Excuse me?" I asked, completely at a loss. I really look at her now, jerked out of my trance, the imaginary glass of wine abandoned in order to figure out what it was that she said since she certainly couldn't have said what I thought she said. She is digging through her very large green felt-like bag. It is this moment when I realize that there is a face looking at me from the bag.
Two big round black eyes regard me calmly, pink tongue that doesn't seem to quite fit in its mouth flopping around while the woman pulls her wallet out from under what, my best guess, is a Miniature Yorkshire Terrier. Not knowing what else to do, I pat the dog on the head (it was a girl), finish the woman's transaction and continue with my day. As ridiculous as it seems to me to carry around a dog around shopping especially since your friendly, local, neighborhood bookstore has a no animals policy, I have a code that I work by, one that I picked up from an old friend and it goes like this:
"I don't ask questions, I just work here."
Besides she bought a book to donate to underprivileged children in the area AND had a Reward's Card -- I'm not gonna cause her any trouble.
"Do you have a rewards card?" I continue through my "script".
"Oh dear, I think you're sitting on my wallet."
I look at my legs to make sure I'm still standing at the register as I believe I have been for approximately the last thirty-four minutes, then look at the pile of books in front of me to make sure she didn't mean that the books were on top of her wallet (which they weren't),
"Excuse me?" I asked, completely at a loss. I really look at her now, jerked out of my trance, the imaginary glass of wine abandoned in order to figure out what it was that she said since she certainly couldn't have said what I thought she said. She is digging through her very large green felt-like bag. It is this moment when I realize that there is a face looking at me from the bag.
Two big round black eyes regard me calmly, pink tongue that doesn't seem to quite fit in its mouth flopping around while the woman pulls her wallet out from under what, my best guess, is a Miniature Yorkshire Terrier. Not knowing what else to do, I pat the dog on the head (it was a girl), finish the woman's transaction and continue with my day. As ridiculous as it seems to me to carry around a dog around shopping especially since your friendly, local, neighborhood bookstore has a no animals policy, I have a code that I work by, one that I picked up from an old friend and it goes like this:
"I don't ask questions, I just work here."
Besides she bought a book to donate to underprivileged children in the area AND had a Reward's Card -- I'm not gonna cause her any trouble.
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