Working in the retail jail

Yesterday, Kim and I ate in a health food store in Egg Harbor, Wisconsin on the way to Sister Bay. There was a tree-hugger there, who seemed to be passing through and was hanging out with the locals and flirting with the girl behind the counter. It makes me think of way back when I worked in the video store that rented French videos. 

This job was awesome because it was like an unofficial graduate school for learning French. It was a pain in the butt because my bosses were condescending jerks, to be polite. At the end of my gig there (after a little over a year), I was fired, re-hired and quit (with obscenities) all in the space of five minutes. 

One of the indignities that I had at this "paradis" was to dog sit. They had a bichon frise that was mean and nasty. It stayed in it's bed behind the counter with me when it was not trying to bite customers. Ah the joyous feeling of trying to keep a ravenous little dog at bay while attempting to scan the barcode of a VHS tape. And all this for a little over minimum wage! Writing this does not convey the smell of hanging with this "chiot" either. Tres yuck!

There were all sorts of interesting people that would stop by. Ambassadors, visiting doctors at NIH, French ex-pats who were basically American, dirty old men who would ask for the hardcore porn French movies (there were none) and my personal favorite- "the nanny"...

This nanny was from France or some other French-speaking country and would come by and talk and talk and talk for what seemed like hours at a time. I'll admit it was good for my "franglais", but after I while I just wished she would leave and go do something else. I guess she must have been homesick, but I had magazines to read and a dog to control.

Anyway, yesterday I was wondering if the girl behind the counter was genuinely interested in what eco-man had to say or was just being polite. Did she have the same feeling of being trapped like I did years ago? Retail is such a weird experience because one works with "the public." The public is an odd person- s/he sometimes forgets manners, how to interact in a civil manner, and how to be polite, and talks down to retail workers. I try very hard not to be John Q. Public in, well, public, but sometimes I am just as guilty as anyone else. 

Everybody's been there at some point. As a matter of fact, yours truly may be going back to that for the Christmas season. Here's hoping I don't get fired again.