024.) I Suppose I Deserve This.

(bench in front garden which greatly signifies how I am feeling this day)

Yesterday was Saturday (an obvious statement - unless you, dear reader, have just taken a rather nauseating trip through the space-time continuum and therefor have no idea what day it is, or even what year (in which case: the year is 2009)). As has been happening lately, I was on Register #1 duty yesterday.

I received my usual amount of gawkers and yellers and people otherwise ordering me to stop moving so that they might be better able to read my arm - or screwing up their faces and asking, "What's going on with your arm, there?" Most of the customers were nice, however, and made up for the rudeness of the others. Because, really, I am not an art exhibit escaped from the Louvre.

Then there was Jail Bait (fourth paragraph down, please). I don't know why I let myself be so creeped out by what happened, but he came in with one of his friends - though at the time I had no idea who it was coming through the door because I was writing down some items in our long running tally for inventory purposes.

ME

(WRITING DOWN THE ITEMS AND THEIR PRICES INTO THE YELLOW LEGAL PAD, TRYING TO DELAY THE INEVITABLE TASK OF CLEARING OUT THE SECOND REGISTER SO IT CAN BE MOVED ONTO THE COUNTER BESIDE REGESTER #1)

HELLO.





JAIL BAIT'S BRUNETTE FRIEND

(WALKING INTO THE STORE IN FRONT OF JAIL BAIT, SAUNTERING IN THAT WAY TEENAGE BOYS SAUNTER)

HEY.





JAIL BAIT

(GRABBING MY ATTENTION BY SPEAKING BECAUSE, OF COURSE, I KNOW HIS VOICE BY NOW AND ALWAYS LIKE TO SEE WHO HE'S COME IN WITH. HIS "POPS" IS A NICE MAN, AND I FIND IT MUCH EASIER TO MAKE SMALL TALK WITH POPS THAN JAIL BAIT BECAUSE - WELL - HOW DO YOU TALK TO A KID WITH A CRUSH ON YOU?)

HEY. NICE TAT.





ME

(ASSUMING HE IS REFERRING TO MY RIGHT SLEEVE, NOW THE MOST VISIBLE PIECE OF ART ON MY BODY AND ONE THAT WILL SURELY DRAW THE OTHERS FURTHER OUT OF THE NETHER AND INTO THE WAKING CONSCIOUSNESS - THANK YOU, MY DEAR SWEET RENOIR (I DON'T MEAN THAT ROMANTICALLY, MIND, MISSUS RENOIR SO PLEASE DON'T STAB ME WITH YOUR SHEARS). HOW WOULD YOU LIKE MY SOUL PACKAGED?)

THANK YOU.

(GOES ABOUT BUSINESS OF TRYING TO DUST THE SHELVES OF THE STORE IN A PENCIL SKIRT WITH AN EYELET AND RIBBON BACKING AND A SLIT PERHAPS TOO HIGH FOR THE CATHOLIC RESALE ENVIRONMENT)





JAIL BAIT

(COMES TO REGISTER SOME TIME AFTER ARRIVING IN STORE WITH A PAIR OF SUNGLASSES (BROWN AS RECOMMENDED BY BRUNETTE, TO GO WELL WITH JAIL BAIT'S BLONDE AND PALE COMPLEXION). SETS SUNGLASSES ON COUNTER)





ME

(AFTER RINGING THE $3.99 GLASSES INTO REGISTER)

$4.21





JAIL BAIT

(HANDS ME $20.25)

YOU GOT THIS JOB THROUGH WORKFORCE DEVELOPMENT, RIGHT?





ME

(AFTER A SLIGHT, UNCOMFORTABLE PAUSE DURING WHICH I THINK: "HOW ON EARTH DO YOU KNOW THIS?" AND "YEAH. IN 2006. A LONG TIME AGO NOW. IT WAS A REQUIREMENT FOR MY GRADUATION FOR DUMMIES CLASS THOUGH I WAS NOT ONE OF THE DUMMIES." EVENTUALLY, NODS)

YEAH.

(HANDS JAIL BAIT HIS CHANGE. I MIGHT HAVE PUT THE SUNGLASSES IN A BAG)





JAIL BAIT

(POCKETS CHANGE. SAYS SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF-)

I'M DOING THAT, TOO.






ME

(MAKING A HATCH MARK NEXT TO THE WORD "SUNGLASSES" ON THE LEGAL PAD TALLY)

GOOD LUCK WITH THAT.

(I MEAN THIS SINCERELY THOUGH IT MAY HAVE COME OUT SARDONICALLY. I CANNOT HELP THAT THE NATURAL CADENCE OF MY VOICE TENDS TO LEAN TOWARD SARDONICISM)






JAIL BAIT

( EXITS STAGE LEFT, LEAVING ME WITH A STRANGE FEELING AND AN IMAGE IN MY MIND OF MY PICTURE HANGING ON THE CUBICLE WALL OF MARY BETH, THE "WOW" DIRECTOR WITH A SPACE IN THE WORKFORCE DEVELOPMENT OFFICES INSIDE MATC)

Am I a "Success Story" to be told to all of the Summer Youth Employment Program youths ages 14 to 24?