Open Mouth, Insert…?

July 25, 2008 at 12:12 pm (Cussed Dumbers)

Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain. My attempts at witty banter come flying out; sometimes they work, sometimes they’re groan-inducing. (Mostly the latter, according to some.) Last night I managed to slam on the brakes before getting into trouble.

It’s busy season at work, and we’ve been short-handed. The long hours behind the register run together, one face after another. As the week winds down, so does ones restraint and patience, so we try to have fun when possible. Boss Whitney, after a very long day, stopped by about 9 PM for a TV dinner and conversation. He used a milk crate for a chair and a 12-pack of Coke for a TV tray. We shot the breeze while he munched and I rang customers.

A pair of young women come in. It’s hard to tell if they’re together or not. One goes to the back of the store, the other peruses the beer aisle. The one in the back of the store comes to the counter first. She puts down a Sobe and some gum. She’s wearing a short-short summer dress, but I’m watching the girl in line behind her. She has a sixer of PBR. She’s clutching it to her peasant blouse, which is virtually see through and displaying nipples that look like doorbells. Gulp! She looks at our impulse-buy bin of Tootsie Pops and Blow Pops. “Ooh!” She grabs one.

Ms. Peasant Blouse/Pabst Blue Ribbon asks, “Are these fresh?”

“So fresh they say ‘Hey baby’ when you pick ’em up,” I respond in my best faux-Casanova voice.

“Nuh-uh!” says her friend. “Mine didn’t say anything!” She’s feisty, and quick with the comeback.

Ah, but so am I. “That’s because you haven’t bl-” I saw Whitney out of the corner of my eye. (“-blown him yet!”) I managed to stop the sentence just in time, but they all got it. Whitney gave me a look worthy of the Church Lady. The girls giggled, and I became ever so flustered.

Tootsie Pop handed me her credit card. I took it, and promptly hit the cash button. Ding! Register opens. D’oh! Now I have to refund each item, then charge her once more, using the credit card.

“”How many times you gonna ring me up, hon?” asked Tootsie Pop.

I tried explaining, but that made it worse. Whitney rose from his portable living room and supervised Ms. PB/PBR’s chest. She bought Blow Pops as well. Man, I wish I could follow this party home… They left separately, and Whitney followed them outside. They met up on the corner; Tootsie Pop must not have had ID…

Later, around midnight, Elmo is running the till and I’m getting ready to leave. A gum-snapping hoochie-mama comes to the counter. “How much a pack of Newport Kings?”

“$6.15,” said Elmo.

Hoochie-mama exclaimed, “Holy shit!”

To which I replied, “Absolute Pope droppings.”

Elmo has heard me use that line a hundred times, but tonight it registered. He started laughing, which started me laughing. I was mid-sip on my post-work Coke, and I blew soda out my nose.

“Now I can say I snorted Coke at work tonight!”

I mopped off and got out of there before I spouted any more messy witticisms.

Think I’ll take a couple of days off. After all that hilarity, my belly hurts.

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