she called me back behind the counter

January 26th, 2007

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Ben,

HOLY CATS it’s cold out. The kind of cold that’s just too cold. Like being outside HURTS. That’s okay though, because I’ve used science to hijack the office radio, and you know what that means… SWEEEEEEEEET CITY WOOMAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

Today when I went to buy cream for my coffee, because I’m a little woman and drinking it black gives me a tummy ache, the cute asian lady that runs the store and always wears shirts with Disney characters on them yelled, as I was tryyyyyyying to decide on a TastyKake, “hey, you know computaahhs right?” I turned around, but her face was blocked by scratch tickets, and I had to lean over to confirm that she was indeed talking to me. She was, and she called me back behind the counter to help her fix the dvd player on her laptop. I ejected it, and not only is it a DVD-R, but it’s a miniDVD-r. I’m all, like, really? Why not just have the movie transcribed by laying out a long line of feathers in the windy outside? That’s about as reliable, about as standardized.

But, I mean, come on. I got it working. OF COURSE. But she didn’t give me my cream or TastyKake for free, but hey, no woman would. Pride never goes on sale.

I figure I’m in like flint now. If it wasn’t enough that I buy subs there almost every day, now I’m one of maybe, what, a tiny handful of customers that have been invited back behind the register? Like being called backstage. In any case, they like me a lot better than the chicks at The Golden Chopstick. I come in and you see them look around like, “great here we go again”. I think they resent that I get a wonton soup every single day. Maybe just because it’s the cheapest thing on the menu. But maybe they take offense that I’m not giving them a chance to wow me with their other far eastern confections. “We’re more than just wontons!” they seem to say, with their eyes, whose language I, sadly, have never mastered.

Yours always,
Charlie

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