Reciprocity

It’s been a while since I’ve had a blog-worthy day at work. Even through the holidays, Valentines Day, and the start of the shower season the weirdness factor hasn’t spiked.

Until today.

Before the lunch rush, a guy came in carrying a bag from The Limited. The Boss asked if she could help him, and he said he hoped they could help each other. He had two pairs of ladies shoes, one size 9 and one size seven, and he offered to sell a pair to one of us for $2.00 and a cup of coffee. Fortunately, none of us wears a size 7 or 9! She offered to sell him a cup of coffee, and he said, “Oh, I’m sure you will, but I believe in reciprocity!” And walked out the door. We all waited until the door was shut and we saw him get into his car across the street before we burst out laughing. (And oh, by the way, I’ve never been in a Limited store that sold shoes.)

Later, a family–older parents with their grown daughter and grandson (who was about 9 or 10)–came in for lunch. They looked over the menu, and then asked the waitress if we have grilled chicken. Or boiled chicken. Or grilled chicken salad. I guess they thought that since we feature a chicken salad sandwich that we must have chicken lying around, ready to cook to order. Such is not the case; I don’t know what they settled for. I was busy washing dishes. I’m so glad to be the dishwasher! They were high maintenance in general, and the grandmother told The Boss at one point that she wished we had some kind of chicken because her husband wasn’t feeling well, which made us all wonder why they were out for lunch. (I live with two Typhoid Marys just now, but thank you for adding your germs to the mix!) He looked like he was feeling all right to me, though, when he came to look over our desserts, ordered a cookie to go, and ate it at the table. They were lousy tippers, too. I guess it was because we didn’t have grilled chicken.

Other than that, and the fact that not one but two pieces of quiche fell apart on me, it was a pretty normal day. My hands were warm for a little while; they’re not anymore, of course. It’s still freaking February, after all.

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This entry was posted in Day Job.

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