The last few days at work seems as though I have attracted some real winners. Maybe it is the pull of the moon. Goodness knows that it has wreaked havoc with me physically and we'll just leave it at that.
So, I have this young man (20's) come literally BOUNCING through the gallery asking me if we sell "twea*ker bags?" Y'all, I had no idea what he was asking for. I think that the look I gave him told him that. The bag he asked about? It is meant to contain your speed. (I had to ask the walking Urban Dictionary at work.) Yes, I mean as in :stuff:.
I work in a Fine American Craft Gallery. I do not work in a head shop. There is one down the street. We border a college campus, after all. Really. Just go down there. We don't sell pipes. We don't sell bags. We don't sell the stuff to put into the pipes or bags. It is a rarely asked question, but I seem to be the one who gets them. Really? I've never used in my entire life!
So, after speedy bouncer and his equally speedy mother and babysitter grandmother all left the day was done and I rolled in for today, my last day of the week.
My morning started in a way that no woman particularly cares for. Let us just say that coverage wasn't all encompassing. I woke up in time to just miss a major disaster. Still, good morning! Argh.
Today was museum day. Museum day is when everyone comes in, touches, comments, reads aloud what product says then leaves empty handed. That's okay, but it can be exhausting.
I had a young woman come to the counter to pay for her purchase. She handed me her credit card which read very large in Sharpie "ID REQUIRED." I'm good with that. I want people to ask me. She goes to hold her wallet up, which is a personal pet peeve of mine as how am I supposed to properly ID you without having to handle your wallet. I don't want to touch your wallet. So I asked her if she could remove her ID. She did and it was mangled. Her sister asked her how it was mangled. She said that she had "gone to a scary movie and had chewed on it."
Ewww. I Purelled after she left.
So, we had a woman who wanted to return something. After she was told her options, Sam told her that she could leave it at the counter and if she found something, we could do the return paperwork then. "Well, DON'T LOSE IT!" (I've never had anyone tell me that in regards to a return.) I chimed in and told her that we are pretty responsible people, but she is more than welcome to carry it around with her. Sam added that it was still her merchandise so we were fine with it. She ended up finding a suitable replacement to the gifted earrings and happily went out with a few bucks to spare.
The end of the day came and we had a dawdling customer and gentleman in tow. She told me, "Well, Ron shops so much faster than me. I just take my time." Knowing the time, my comment was, "Oh don't worry. You are good for another 10 minutes!" So, she decided to buy several pair of earrings. When it came time to pay for her purchase, she told me, "Well let me get my money OUT OF MY BRA." (I would have loved to see the look on my face.) So I took the credit card, began writing the info I needed when she said, "I'm sorry, that was probably too much information, right?" "Um, sort of, but that's okay."
After she left, I Purelled again. I had just handled boo*b money.
I had to go after work to pick K- up from Hubs' parents house. I had to do a bit of computer maintenance and install a new virus protection software. The software I was told to use (AVG) is "great and free!" It's only free if you sign up for a trial that they have, which I didn't want to do because I was certain that would tie my in-law's to some weird membership to the stamps club or a mail order movie club forever. We ended up doing the pay for option and where I wanted to pay for it (they watch K-, pick her up, provide many lovely things for her . . . ) they insisted on paying. Ugh. And I thought it was free. They were happy I did it and I was even able to show my MIL how to copy on her printer.
Hubs had a volunteer meeting tonight and a half hour beforehand, the one whole cheek of his pants ripped. Thank goodness there was a KMart across the street (feeling very Rainman here), as he went and bought himself a pair of $10.00 khaki's and all was well. They laughed and called Hubs the "Incredible Hulk." :)
So, for my lovely commenters on my "what the heck do I do with my kid being picked on/beat up" I can happily report that M- did not do anything mean at all to K- on Wednesday. She said she told him good morning and "he didn't do anything mean at all today to me, Mom!" Baby steps.
On the other hand, another classmate kept saying that K- "liked D-." K- knows that we've had the girlfriend-you-are-far-too-young-for-boyfriends discussion. She said that she ignored C-. Good. Perhaps that will stop, too.
Thank you much for your kind words and honest suggestions. It means a lot that you would give me great suggestions to help my kiddo out. And for the record, what K- tells me is pretty much gospel truth. She's not an exaggerator. Never has been. So, I really did believe what she told me.
Smiles in my day:
- When 6:00 PM came.
Tuckered out. Must climb into my bed. It's calling, "It's been a long day Amy. Come on over. I'll make that day go right away. Your eyes will close before you know it and you'll be asleep lickety split."
I must go listen to my bed now. 'Night.