So the renovations are done. Which means I won't have to yell at customers to leave my store because we're closed. Now I have to tolerate them once more.
Seriously, these past few weeks have made it so I'm needing to get back on the horse, retail-wise. For the past two days, I've been trying to keep myself in the back room away from customers, because I don't want to look at them.
And will they get off my freshly waxed laminate floor already???
Unfortunately, my co-worker Ammon, who's a new hire, has fallen into the habit of doing what most new hires do when they don't know much about the product: Say "You know, I'm not sure. But Kyle will be able to help you out, since he's sure to know."
And so, I usually come out of the back room to find a lineup of customers waiting to talk to me. Or I'm helping one customer for a long time because they need the help, and I hear Ammon tell his customer to ask me about fuses when I'm trying my hardest to sell a set of speakers with no box.
I, of course, straightened out Ammon by telling him that that's my least favourite thing to have to deal with when I'm already dealing with my own crises...and that the catalog is his best friend.
It was when I started out...
* * *
Went to the No Mercy PPV tonight. I happened to have the line of the night. (I know so because I got a standing ovation by some in the room. Or at least a sitting-up-straight ovation...)
When Dawn Marie, Smackdown's resident lustbunny, came out wearing a "Charlie Haas [heart]s Dawn Marie" shirt, Elimination was stunned by her usual lack of clothing.
Elimination: "Oh! Hey, wait! Dawn's shirt has writing on it!"
Laughter from room.
Me: "Oh! Hey! It's written in Braille!"
Two minute laugh break.
* * *
I've been having odd sleeping habits these days. I mean, I've ALWAYS been borderline narcoleptic, usually falling asleep in the moment WHILE I'm putting my glasses on the nightstand.
Usually, I can't stand less than ten hours of sleep. I can make do with eight, but I thrive on more.
So ever since the week of Northern Harmony, where I was renovating and being bored for eight hours a day, and going to so many media stops, I've been falling asleep a lot earlier than usual, hitting the sack before midnight. (Before September, I wouldn't consider going to bed before one a.m.)
So these days, I' d get into bed, read a magazine, and two paragraphs in, I'd be out cold. Not so bad, until I wake up at three in the morning, realize my lamp was still on, find my reading material half-crumpled beneath me, and locate my glasses at the foot of the bed, sometimes folded neatly.
God, I've got to stop falling asleep before I fall asleep...