A very large lady came in to the shop today. After a few minutes of fumbling through a single folder - that only had two sheets of paper in it - she managed to hand one sheet to me and ask how much 100 color copies would cost.
"Color copies are 40 cents a piece," I replied.
She stared at me with a completely blank look on her face. There was an excruciating pause while I tried to figure out what she was waiting for. Finally she picked up the calculator that was on the counter and slammed it down in front of me.
"HOW MUCH WOULD THAT BE?? I SAID I WANTED 100 COPIES!!!"
Taking a deep breath before speaking while silently counting backwards from 100 I said, "At 40 cents each, that would come to. . . $40."
Long pause. 92. . .91. . .90. . .89. . .88. . .
"Would you like me to make the copies for you?" I asked.
No answer. 87. . .86. . .85. . . Perhaps she hadn't heard me so I quietly asked again. 84. . .83. . .
I looked at the large lady in the nearly pornographic scoop neck top. 82. . .81. . .80. . . To my utter stupefaction she reached down her top, stuck her hand into her bra and pulled out a cellphone. All the while I'm standing there trying not to let my wonder and amazement at this encounter show on my face. My mind was simply racing with thoughts – Why in the hell does she have a purse if she carries her phone in her bra?? What else could possibly down there?? EWWW! You don't really want the answer to that last question!! . . .82. . .81. . .80. . .
She makes a phone call while I'm standing there. Waiting.
Again I ask, "Would you like me to make the copies for you?"
"Can't you see I'm on the phone here??"
79. . .78. . .77. . .76. . .
Finally I make the copies. We settle the bill and she tucks her cellphone back in it's nest. I'm sure she goes about her day without another thought about our little encounter.
I think I'm scarred for life.
2 comments:
Oh my poor friend. I can just see you standing there. You are truly a patient woman. Much better than I would have done. But the vision in my head is still pretty funny.
I've been resisting the idea of working in retail, although there are often those types of jobs posted in the ads I read.
But I often wonder 'what shall I write about on my blog for today' and think that maybe working retail would solve that problem.
Then, I remember how much I hate stupid people now, when I'm not obligated to be nice. What would it be like when my job would depend on me being nice?
It's a quandary.
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