Wednesday, August 16, 2017

One of These Crazy Ole Nights


This was a super fast lunch and boxed dinner for work.  If I work late I prepare and think ahead as the staff cafeteria closes before I take my meal break.  And as crazy as it sounds for New York, there is absolutely nothing close to my work except water, lots of water.  Fast food, as in throw it all in the pot and run to get ready.  Brown rice, chicken stock, cilantro, large garlic clove and two links of chicken sausage.  I topped it with fresh cut tomatoes and a big squeeze of lemon juice after 45 minutes of cooking time.  I ate that and then packed some for later.
It was all going so well.  I had plenty of time to meander to work.  Wasn't going to be late. Who would have thought that night someone was going to call me a retarded bitch and I would deal with the tallest, nuttiest (not in a good way) Swedish family that I ever could have imagined.  Anyone in retail knows that certain nights, just become these themes.  Everyone you encounter will be cut from the same crazy cloth.  Sometimes good, oftentimes bad. And this was one of those nights.  My first customer argued with me from hello and then complained before begging me for help.  Two guys demanded immediate assistance and began barking orders, called me honey and grabbed my arm. First of all, I hate being touched by strangers especially ones I don't like.  I stiffened and did not budge.   After that it just went downhill.  There was a lot of bad behavior on both our parts until it ended in name calling.  As in calling me a retarded bitch.  Of course I couldn't respond verbally.  That was tough I have to be honest. The hardest part sometimes of dealing with the public.  I just sat and focused on my part. I provoked them.  They were assholes no doubt but every response was a direct kick to their egos. And I knew guys like that would not take it well.  It was a retaliation but I know better.  I'm supposed to be cooler than that.

At the end of the night, we became crazy busy with tons of commotion at the check in desk.  I hear people screaming, I turn to look and there stood these 4 giant blondes of different ages and sizes.  All unrealistically upset and berating my coworker.  I step in as the calm one.  What seems to be the problem was all I could get out before they all transferred their shouting in my direction.   Then inter-arguing became a thing, the two women were told to be quiet or else the tall good looking male would just put an end to this whole thing!  So dramatic.  He has to be the gay designer I tell myself.  Oh Lord help me.  When the designers argue openly with their clients, it's such a tough road to the end of that sale.  All the while the older man was shooting questions at me like bullets as if none of this chaos was taking place less then a foot from us. However, he couldn't be bothered to listen to my answers. There was more shrill voices until somehow I turned that boat around at five minutes until closing. By the end, they each thanked me more than once and wanted to shake my hand.  What's with all the touching??  I pray they don't come back and assured them it is impossible to request me as we work varied schedules.  I think ahead like that.

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