I Hope You Want Mustard
The conversation yesterday went something like this: "Hey Nettie, it's Kimberly. Can you work tonight?" Well, I've finished reorganizing my T-shirts- yep my schedule seems to be clear! "Sure, I can work!" "Great, see you when I get there." I pulled on my freshly-washed Subway shirt and khaki shorts and lit out of the house so fast I forgot to tape Summerland. I was off to a land where for every one person that gets mustard, the next five sandwiches get it cause that stuff goes everywhere. I hate mustard.
But there are bright spots. At BBW, we're supposed to look pretty cause we are selling beauty products. Subway? I can roll in wearing those khaki shorts from sometime in high school, in a ponytail that really doesn't work cause the front layers are too short, but slap the visor on my head and I'm good to go. I love it. And then there was the clown. He came in wearing a shirt that repeated, "Can't sleep, clowns will eat me" and as I made his BMT, he said he really was a clown. He and his friend 'Professor Glen' work at a magic store down the road. He came in twice more to get cookies. The third time he brought Glen back with him, who bent keys for us. And he told me his name was Ralph.
Of course, there are kinks. It took us forever to close last night cause I didn't know what I was doing. I got out of there after midnight and started to have a rather interesting imagined conversation: "Harvey, Li'l Cricket closes in five minutes. I don't know if we can make it." You want to get home, don't you? "But can't you wait till later?" You'll forget you need gas and end up being late. "But I just got you gas." Well, if you didn't use the air conditioner so much. "All right, Harvey, you win. You always win." Satisfied RRRrrr.