![]() Touchy-Feely just high-tailed it out the door. I duck and veer so that it slides awkwardly across my back instead and bark:Įveryone in sight turns to stare at us. He reaches out to put his arm around my shoulder. Don’t you dare come one step closer.” He shifts his weight off of the counter to do just that, and I veer widely around him. I give him a look that I hope conveys the sentiment, “I don’t know you. We make eye contact as I’m coming up to pay. Mostly, you just make a point of not being friendly to them when they think you should be. Doing nothing, of course.Īs I said, I know this type. It is even more obvious that the clerk is extremely uncomfortable.Īs I walk past the photo counter, I see the manager standing and making small talk with another employee, in full sight of the register where his clerk is being harassed by what appears to be someone who’s not a paying customer. It’s obvious he’s settled in for the evening and has no intention of going anywhere. I make eye contact with the clerk and she is keyed up. I clock him immediately I know his type all too well. He is standing about where you would if you were checking out, only leaning on the counter so that actual customers have to walk around him and wedge themselves awkwardly between him and the credit card input in order to pay. She greets me and I hear something off in her voice I look over and there’s this dude standing next to her register. The clerk is an older woman who is always super friendly and competent but not very assertive. I’m at my local pharmacy picking up prescriptions and an energy drink, breakfast of champions. Manager: “Can you not distract him from four aisles over? I have to deal with him later.” I just picked up my bags, wished them well, and walked out - but of course, not before hearing one last parting word from my dad’s manager. The cashier bent over the belt laughing, and the man looked like he was going to fall to the ground laughing. The cashier, the man, and I wait for only a beat before we hear:ĭad: “SHE TELLS ME, ‘WELL, D*** YOU, THEN’!” Hey, Dad! What do I say when you sneeze three times?!” Man: “I gotta hear this I know your father.” Man: *Sneezing again* “Last one, I promise.” I was at that store one day, and a man nearby started sneezing. I live in one of those everyone-knows-everyone towns, and my dad works in a store that’s smaller than your average US grocery store. Now, something to know about me: I have a loud voice that carries rather well and somehow does not match my personality of a quiet bookworm. One thing to know about my dad is that he sneezes at least three times in a row. ![]()
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