Oh, dear. The Devil has been finding work for the idle hands of Newmentia's recent graduates. I know that, because while trying to leave The Devil's Playground today in under thirty minutes at the check-out, I saw a prime example.
Other students have worked there. I try to avoid their lines. Not that they're incompetent or anything, but I don't need them knowing my business. I live at school, you know. So I should only be buying pens and dry erase markers and Germ-X and Puffs With Lotion. Not L'Oreal, feminine products, acne medicine, athlete's foot spray, Pepcid, sugar-free cookies and Little Debbie Cosmic Brownies, Diet Coke and Sprite, eight pudding cups, etc. Because they don't know that some is for me, some is for The Pony, some is for Farmer H, and some is for my mom, who is on a soft diet for two weeks and acts like a child with her tonsils freshly removed. Nope. They assume it's all my stuff. I'm sure they can't wait to twitter it or facebook it or whatever it is these crazy kids do these days. It doesn't pay to be a small-town celebrity.
So anyway, I almost felt sorry for this kid. Little Mister looked so proud in his blue Devil's vest, ringing up stuff at the 15 Items or Less lane. Then Bad Man started in on him. He wanted a refund for something. And Little Mister told him that he was not allowed to give a refund, that Bad Man needed to step over to the customer service desk for that. Bad Man was not having it.
"You're the one who rang me up!"
"I'm not the one who rang you up."
"Do you think I'm stupid? I know what you look like! You had a name tag on! When I was in here two weeks ago, you're the one who rang me up. Now I want a refund!"
The customer behind bad man tried to help. Because Little Mister is a polite fellow, undeserving of this berating, simply for following The Devil's policy.
"I've brought things back lots of times. And you always have to go to customer service for the refund. He can't help you here. Look. It's right over there."
Bad Man glared at both of them. "I don't have time for this. I need my refund. This is the stupidest place I ever saw." He stomped his tiny feet past my line and over to customer service.
I didn't let on. No need to make Little Mister feel any lower. After my shopping was done, The Pony and I dropped of groceries for Mom. Then we headed back through her town. I decided to cash in a lottery winner. Not a big one. Just $40. The minute I stepped into the convenience store, the clerk said, "Hey! You were my teacher!" Great. I can't get away from them. I went ahead with my transaction. As you might guess, she sold me a bunch of losers. Only $10 on ONE winning ticket. I'm hoping the three I have set aside for the #1 son's card this week will bear fruit.
I really need to relocate.
2 comments:
Well, in a year and almost a half, you will be able to retire. Then you can vamoose.
If you could relocate to anywhere in the world--and you could take your mom, your two boys, Juno and Hick (Hick is optional), where would you go? (Nosey minds want to know.)
Sioux,
That's one year and 104 school days.
I would load up my Beverly Hillbillies truck, strap my mom to the top in a rocking chair, and head for Springfield, MO. I've always liked that town. The big grid design so you can find streets you're looking for, the fantastic Chinese take-out, the mall, the headquarters of Bass Pro Shop, and the country just outside the city limits.
I actually had a chance to relocate there when my unemployment job was eliminated. However...I had just bought my $16,000 house five years before, and Farmer H and I were planning on building our dream Mansion on the original 10 acres we bought together just before we tied the knot.
Yeah. I could have transferred to the Springfield office. Or back to the city, downtown, on Delmar. No transfer for me. I went back to teaching.
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