Pssst. Hi blog, what’s up? What’s new with you? How come you never write me? It’s always me talking about my day. You don’t bring much to the table, do you? You’re just a platform.
When I was little, I used to think my stuffed animals were alive and had personalities of their own – they just weren’t allowed to let me know. I know I wasn’t alone. That’s why all kids like stuffed animals – we think they’re alive. Otherwise we’d play with soft hairballs.
“Uh, thinking toys are really alive is creepy,” you say.
“Uh, playing with hairballs is creepy,” I counter.
In other news blog, my trip to the mall yesterday was highly successful. It was quick, I found the things I needed, and I discovered a new store. There was some drama in the new store. I had picked out the article of clothing I wanted to purchase, and the retailer asked me, “Would you like some socks? We have a special – three for ten dollars.”
I began to say, “No thank you, I won’t be duped into…” and then I stopped and raised my eyebrows, “Did you say socks?” As the proud owner of many, many socks, I’ve recently decided that having plain white cotton socks isn’t sufficent. I should have them in different colors and sizes. I’ve noticed that on days where I wear argyle socks or colorful knee socks, I am more smug and confident. So, I’ve begun exploring different types of socks. Socks are tricky however, because it is imperative that they be comfortable.
“Yes, socks” she said, and pointed me towards the socks. So over I went, to the sock section, and picked out three pairs after careful review. I returned to the counter, only to find that my cashier wasn’t there. Instead, by the counter, stood a woman I presume was her manager because she was holding a clipboard authoritatively and was wearing a headset.
I really enjoy it when people in clothing stores wear headsets, because when I am asking for a sweater in a size small, I like that the salesperson can whisper into his earpiece to tell another person, persumably waiting in the back next to all the small sweaters, to bring me a small immediately. This is a marked step up from the past, when I would ask for a size, and the salesperson would start going through the same pile I had just searched through for my size. I’m often tempted to say, “Sir, I’m not asking for your help because I can’t read, I’m asking for your help because the size is not here. You must summon your man in the back.”
Anyway, the manager starts talking into her headset, presumably to my cashier lady, while I’m standing there, looking around, ready to buy. “Have you gone on your break? It’s not your break time.” During all of this, I decide the socks would be itchy, and I put them back. The cashier returned, realizing that in her time away I had changed my mind. The manager smirked, as if to say, “It’s your fault this customer changed her mind about the socks.” I stared at her confused, as if to say, “What is your problem? _You_ could have rung me up. Plus I really didn’t want those socks.”
Quite the drama!
Tomorrow is a corporate holiday event, and I’m quite nervous. I don’t know what to wear, really, and what to say, and what to drink and eat. Surely many of my co-workers will be looking to me to see how to act, so I’m under a lot of pressure providing that kind of unspoken guidance.
In other news, dear blog, my reign as Time’s Person of the Year is over. The crown has been passed on to Vladimir Putin.