I Make Them Good Girls Go Blog
Due to the unique if not wonky schedule of a retail store manager, I have to admit that the days of the week have almost completely lost their “feel” to me. There was a time where Wednesday had a sense to it, with that growing anticipation of the coming weekend off; or Tuesday, which was not as ‘blah’ as Monday, but was definitely no Thursday. Alas, nowadays I tend to think of my days as “working” or “not working.”
It’s sad, I know, but I’d like to think it has helped keep me sane all these years…well, sane as in “not likely to go axe-crazy homicidal today” sane. Considering the stories I’ve written and rantings I’m prone to doing, sanity is a relative term. But I digress.
Today was a Friday, and for once it had a very distinct feel about it. Specifically, it felt like last weekend, where over the span of two days I was about ready to shed the “not likely to go axe-crazy homicidal today” sanity, and all thanks in part to the crowds of strange people and aggravating customers.
The morning proved especially grievous. I should have recognized the ominous portents when our store was suddenly smashed by 40 boxes of stock. From there, I had the displeasure of contending with all sorts of bizarre & annoying customers. There were the people who seemed to think I was some sort of manservant from the 19th century, thusly meant to be bossed around constantly. There were the people who asked questions and blatantly ignored the answers I gave them, forcing me to answer the same question at least four times. And then there was the little old lady who peed on my carpet.
No, you didn’t misread that. And no, I’m not making this up, though I really, really wish I was.
To give you all the set up: an obviously older woman, probably in her 80’s at best, came in with a shopping cart. She looked around at a few things, trying on some hats in the mirror. After double-checking a price with me, she abruptly asked in a very casual voice, “Do you happen to know where the nearest bathroom is?”
I pointed down the hall and told her the foodcourt washrooms were just down there and around the corner.
To which she (again, very casually) replied, “Oh, that’s too far. I’m already peeing.”
At this point I’m sure the expression on my face was quite priceless. You’ve probably made this sort of face yourself every now and again. Your professional smile freezes, almost like a Blue Screen of Death, and you blink a few times as your brain attempts to replay that last sentence you pray you simply misheard.
As I tried to lurch myself out of my BSoD, the little old lady began wheeling her cart out of my store and down the mall corridor. Whereupon I looked down at the floor and realized with bemused terror that she was in fact starting to leave small puddles in her wake.
Now up to this point, our fresh new carpet had been unsullied by anything that could leave a permanent stain. The dirtiest it ever got was due to dust or some random bits of rock salt left behind by winter boots. But not anymore! It’s a hell of a way to christen the new carpet, that’s for damn sure. Then again, our old store carpet was christened in a near identical fashion by a four year-old. In light of this, I cannot help but wonder with morbid curiosity: if I go to work somewhere else, and there’s carpeting on that floor, who or what is going to pee on it this time?
(And yes, I cleaned up the mess as best I could immediately after.)
Labels: In which the little old lady pees on the carpet and I’m left to wonder if she was marking her territory
posted by Phillip at 5:55 AM
