Maddy and The Cuteness

This is Maddy.

She came over to chillax at my place. She brought her mom and we had fried chicken. Maddy is an only child, so she wasn't used to the frenzy that is Gremlinville. It's ok, Maddy, I make that face all the time.

She's a quick learner.

Like most females, she is smitten with The Cuteness. Sure, they are like 3rd cousins or something and that might gross them out later, but whatevs. It's still cute. She spent some time wooing him, not an easy task since he's all about not being wooed.

so close...

ah...triumph.

This is Amy. She loved my fried chicken. We may have bonded for life over it. We wrangle customers and cashiers together at The Market. She has many keen observations about people and life. Things like determining what kind of candy a person would be to fit their personality. I think she said I was a Butterfinger. And this other kinda grumpy person we work with was black licorice. I said she would be a gummy bear...with a knife.

After many months of The Cuteness staring her down with serious and contemplating looks, he finally warmed up to Amy. All the way up to her lap...repeatedly. She made the keen observation that he weighs as much as a first grader.

This is Jackelope. He also makes keen observations. And he's not surprisingly good with the toddlers.

Letters From Your Friendly Cashier: Inside Out 5

Dear Thanksgiving Shoppers,

It is with extreme self discipline that I type this letter to you tonight. I've been putting it off for over a week now and for no good reason other than I'm lazy. But because I'm committed to shopper reformation and sharing your crazy antics with the world in an attempt to make them feel better about their own neurosis, I am denying the strong instinct to hide under the warm covers with a book and try my derndest to forget about all of you.

But really, how could I forget?

How can I forget the crazy eyed man who approached me just this evening looking for a woman with a child? When I looked up around the registers there were no less than 20 women, each with children. You Sir, nailed it when you stated, "Well, I've had a bit to drink, so maybe that's my problem."

How can I forget the elderly lady who sidled up to me and my cohort manager, only to inquire if we sell a certain jean by folding down the back waistband to show us the brand name on the inside tag.

Ma'am. You came so very close to showing us way more than that tag. If I hadn't recognized your stretchy band jean brand with lightening quick speed, I hate to think of the images of your rear that would be lodged in my brain for the rest of my life. Let's leave the inside band viewing to the mothers of toddlers and such.

And what about the man concerned with the poison control warning on toothpaste? I won't forget the conversation we had, Sir. You were so concerned about your toothpaste purchase having that warning label and when we explained that they all did, except maybe the toddler's toothpaste with the fun bear on the front, you were exasperated. I'm sorry to say that your exasperation then turned to annoyance when you learned that the toddler toothpaste had the warning as well.

Even though I was very busy, I tried to take some time to find out why this was an issue for you. You told me, "I guess I'll have to use baking soda and salt." To which I replied, "I don't think you'd want to swallow that either."

I never did get an answer to why you were so afraid of the toothpaste. Did you hear me ask if you were concerned about swallowing that much of it to warrant a call to poison control? Are you imagining gremlins breaking out of your bathroom cabinet just as you start to squeeze the tube, coming at you in a toothpaste fury to choke you with the stuff?

Just wondering...cuz they might have a support group for that.

And I cannot forget the young lady in the bathroom singing a song about her poop being like a cookie and not going down.

Kids are so creative these days.

Don't forget,

The Friendly ex-Cashier

No Words

Letters From Your Friendly Cashier: Inside Out 4

Dear Peeps,

At this moment, I am laying almost flat on my back, too tired and sore to even sit and type properly. Wrangling people at The Market has turned me into goo each night after my shift. Maybe I'm a lightweight. Maybe I'm a pansy. Or maybe you all had a meeting and decided you would come in droves to suck the life right out of me.

But really, I'm fine. I'm thankful for so much. Tis the season to be thankful and let's reflect on some things I appreciate before the week of Thanksgiving hits and I forget every blessed one of them in the midst of the sea of humanity pushing each other down for the last forty cents a pound turkey left in the store.

I'm thankful for my laptop that hangs on despite its old age and that it allows me to type you friendly letters from flat on my aching back.

I'm thankful for deep breaths of frigid dry ice that keep me alert when I'm searching for that last little chunk for the creepy Romanian guy who insists that my sorry is not good enough when I explain that we are out for who knows how long. I'm thankful that he keeps my brain sharp with curiosity over the use of said dry ice and the fact that he needed so much of it for his short stay in town. Wasn't that evil doctor from The Burbs from Romania? And isn't Romania right next door to Transylvania? Methinks so.

I'm thankful for concerned customers. Especially the ones who seem to be the bathroom police; the ones who always make it a point to stop at my podium to give me the 411 about the person...and I quote...who "went into the men's restroom, had a bowel movement and got poop all over the toilet seat." End quote. It's especially meaningful coming from the old men who seem to delight in such descriptive words such as "bowel movement" and "poop". Sorry if I looked like I was about to gag, but you had a way of forming the words with your mouth that made the words a little too vivid.

I'm thankful for the interesting things we find in the bathroom other than poop. Things that make us wonder, like big Halloween candy bowls full of urine and used pregnancy tests.

I'm thankful for colorful characters that might or might not be intoxicated and liven up my night with complaints that we don't have benches in the foyer for people who might or might not want to wait for a loved one to pick them up. People that spin such tales of woe always entertain me. You're so thoughtful! Tales of paranoia that as soon as you buy a hot dog and don't have a receipt when you go out the door, sure enough one of us are going to tackle you to the ground. You amuse me. I'm thankful for that.

And I'm thankful for the chuckleheads who remind me to smile with their ever witty remarks. Things like, "Hey, why don't you smile sometime?" and "Wouldn't hurt to smile, you know!" I'm fairly certain we've been over this issue before. But I'm thankful for the reminder that should I decide to smile like a maniac clown all the time, at least I'd be making one person happy in this world.


The Friendly ex-Cashier

Change

Life is just one big adjustment after another. Just when you get used to one thing, it changes and in times like that, it's good to be thankful for the little things.

I'm thankful for the simple pleasure of raining leaves and kids that haven't lost the wonder of a perfect fall day.

I'm thankful for my little muse and for the wonder I get to relive through his eyes. Eyes that are learning to appreciate colorful leaves for the first time.

I'm thankful for life's small offerings and gifts.

I'm thankful for brothers who actually like each other.

I'm thankful for light so beautiful it hurts my insides.

I'm thankful for the explosion of the color yellow right before the stark season of cold and nothingness.

And I'm thankful to the Maker of the Seasons who does not change but has made change all around us to keep us from getting complacent and for us to enjoy.