Offer a polite thank you.

I haven’t written much more about work on here. A church member came in today and said, “Oh, I bet you get a lot of good writing material while working here.”

Does that mean I had to work here to realize people are weird? Or that they are rude, nice, smiley, or mean? No. However, work has given me the opportunity to spy on people. That might sound a little weird, but what I mean is I can see a wider variety of people everyday because I am at work. I record what some of them look like. Do they speak weirdly? Are they short, fat, skinny, tall, hairy, or bald? There is that one girl that dresses like Avril Lavigne, but there are thousands of those girls.

I dread making a drink for this other customer who is so impatient. She paces back and forth, checking her watch, and shooting flustered stares in my direction. Does she not understand that there were customers ahead of her? “Do you have my drink?” She asks.

“Yeah, I am working on it now.” Which makes sense because I just got done working on the drinks for the woman that was ahead of you. If you haven’t figured this out yet, we keep it orderly around here. I wish I could say that and not get fired.

“Okay,” she says, adding, “It is just that this is the slowest place I have been to. It isn’t you. It is everybody.”

“The definition of everybody is every person. Are you saying that I am not a person? I doubt you are, but if I am in fact a person, I am also an employee of this store and am included in ‘everybody’. So, it is me.” I didn’t say that, but I wanted to.

“There is a store down the road that I can go to.”

Borrowing from the wit of Bill Bryson, I saluted her as she went out the door, “Thank you, die soon.”