Monday, April 30, 2007

Red Bull In Morning, Sailor's Warning

Oh, the sea of retail sales is a tempestuous one.

Our first customers of Sunday were a guarana addicted family from "the Island" (as they needlessly announced to us). I can only imagine they were refering to the Island of Lost Souls. The mom was this horrifying she-devil, who had obviously used her banshee song to lure her husband all those years ago. I know that she used the banshee song because everytime we asked her a question she would scream something seemingly unrelated back at her husband. This happened a few times until she decided that her transaction was over with, questioning bluntly "How much?"

We finished the sale and wished them a safe journey.

Moments later the she-witch returns, barking requests for "a tissue" or "toilet paper". We search the counter, but alas, there is none and our loo is occupied. She stares blankly. Waiting. Staring. Trying to set our heads on fire with her mind. She is delusional. She had been drinking energy drinks all morning and was not going to let us treat her that way. I offer her some wrapping tissue after explaining for a second time that we don't have anything else. She stares blankly back at me. She waits. She stares. She is still trying to set our heads on fire, or worse, explode them. We apologize again. There is still no response. She is still staring. I fear she has slipped into a guarana induced diabetic coma.

After a few more uncomfortable moments, she turns and storms out the door. We have no idea what has just happened. Her husband and child are outside waiting for her. The boy looks sick and I fear the worst. The woman is staring at us through the window with that same evil glare as before. I shudder as they walk away, then go outside to inspect the scene. Sure enough, the boy had vomited all over the side of the store. It was all pancakes and Red Bull.

Delightful.

Friday, April 13, 2007

Like Sand Through The Hour Glass, So Are The Days Of Our Lives


You know how it is. You just go on living, minding your own business, everything is normal and then BLAM! Dr. Marlena Evans becomes possessed by the Devil himself. I suppose its standard soap opera fodder, but what happens when something of a similar nature happens in your own back yard?

Now, I'm not saying that anyone I know is possessed by the Devil, but indeed, something strange is afoot at the Circle K. I'm not from 1692 New England or anything, but there's a bit of a witch hunt going on back home. There are rumors of witchcraft and hauntings surrounding some of my family members. It involves the sweat of a dead man (gross), various apparitions (some of the grotesque demonlike variety), and a shape-shifting baby photo.

Everything used to be so normal. What would happen to cause someone to start seriously dabbling in the dark arts? I just don't get it. This is totally freaking me out. I'm just glad that I'm nowhere near these people.

Monday, April 2, 2007

It's Me Isn't It.

I was out with the in-laws yesterday on an adventure to the distant land of Steveston. This is a strange town that time forgot, lost somewhere between seaside tourist town and the alien invasion. A town where the streets are desolate but the Starbucks is a bustling hub. I'm quite certain that the entire populous was there sipping grande non-fat extra whip tripple shot macchiatos and trying to forget that they live in the 'burbs. I am also almost positive that the people of this town were either alien pods from a distant planet, or they thought that we were. Either way they did not take kindly to the arrival of our rag tag company. No sir. They were not having any of it.

Our first destination was the only open thrift store in the city (keep in mind it was 4pm on a SATURDAY) and it was the only open store in the village for that matter. So we walk in and search the store for vintage goodies! I went straight to the ceramics and loaded up with some super 1960s stoneware plates with a yellow and brown circular pattern and two very cute bird planters, when all of a sudden...

"WE'RE CLOSED. GET OUT."
"Ummm. Okay. Do I still have time to buy these?"
I'm being ignored.
"Excuse me. Can I still buy these?"
I'm still being ignored, and now she's turning off the lights. Her cohort comes barrelling towards us shouting.
"WE CLOSE AT 4. IT IS WAY PAST 4. WE'RE CLOSED. YOU HAVE TO LEAVE. NOW."
"I'm not buying anything from here. Let's go."

The situation escalated with a shouting match between the employees (who apparently start work at 6am and are very tired, too tired to apply any customer service past 4pm) and everyone else. Holy crap! I couldn't believe it. We're nice people. Why was this happening?

We then decided to get some food. It was a mediocre meal, the service was poor, and we were charged the sucker rate of 3 dollars more per dish. More arguing of injustice insued as we tried to explain to the resteraunteur that their menus were deceiving and that the price charged was not what was stated in the menu. Again. We're nice people. Why was this happening?

We decided to walk it off down by the sea shore. Ahhhh. I heard stories of the day before's adventure, where everywhere the family went they were treated so well and everyone was happy and smiling and ever so nice! So what was different this day?
It's me isn't it.