They pay my salary

If there's one thing that I love about my current job in retail, it's that you never know what sort of customer is going to approach your counter. It is, however, easy to classify them into relatively general categories.

• The people who love me-- "My mother doesn't speak English, but she says that she wants to take you back to our country and marry you to my brother." (actual quote)

• The people who hate me-- "No, I do not want a credit card! Stop asking! Rawr!"

• The people who don't speak English-- Cue me miming shoe sizes to a variety of Spanish and French speakers.

• The people who treat me like a servant-- "Get me an 11!" "We don't have that size, sir." "Argh! A 12, then!" (again, an actual quote)

• The children-- They generally stare at me like some sort of zoo exhibit, then most break into this soul-brightening smile. Then continue to stare at me, grinning like homicidal maniacs. Oh well, I'll take it.

• The old people who don't have anyone else to talk to-- This is incredibly sad and I make a point to literally sit at their feet when they want to engage me in a conversation and I have nothing else to do. Still, I really, really don't want to hear about your current sex life. Really.

• The people who love to laugh-- Well, they're usually drunk, but laughing all the same.
  

Those are my customers in a tidy list. It's a tad sentimental of me, but I think I'll miss them all when (if) I get a real job.

K.