A Day In the Life
Nov. 6th, 2007 12:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraA crow just brought me a present. No kidding. I was standing by the sea wall trying to make out a horizon in the endless grey fog – there isn’t one – when a goddamn starfish dropped out of the sky. Second later, a crow landed at my feet. Cocked its head, made this weird clicking noise at me, kind of like a woodpecker.
An omen?
Too bad I don’t believe in omens.
I did snag the starfish though. Just in case.
A goodly portion of my sales yesterday were what I like to refer to as mercy fuck sales. Two guys who bought Grateful Dead-inspired Chilehead t-shirts because they thought I was “plucky.” That’s what they said! “You’re so plucky.”
“Well, hey! Don’t stop there,” I said. “Let me sell you some more stuff you don’t need and may not even want.”
They laughed. But they didn’t buy anything else.
After that Allan came in. He’s the very nice gentleman who does the resort map franchise in this area. We schmoozed for a bit.
“How was the weekend?” he asked.
“We did okay,” I said. “But I don’t think there were a lot of people around.”
He shook his head. “It’s like a morgue out there today. But I guess that’s what you expect in November, huh?”
“Oh, it’s a lot slower this November than it was last November. I run the numbers obsessively. Our gross is down. But what’s really down are the number of individual sales."
“Why do you think that is?”
I shrugged. “Dunno. Gas prices? The never-ending hotel construction isn’t helping. But I think really it’s because tourists aren’t coming to Cannery Row.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Do not know,” I said softly.
His eyes roamed the shelves. “Spice Exchange Sweet Ginger sauce! That looks good!” Allan walked over and picked up a bottle. Pretended to read the ingredients. “I’ll take it!”
“Allan,” I said. “You do not have to buy that –“
“I know I do not have to buy that. I have free will!” He leaned over the counter and whispered, “I want to buy that.”
Shaking my head, I rang him up.
After that things started looking up a bit. Two frail looking little old ladies with surprisingly butch tastes in capsaicin. A beautiful young woman from Oregon who confided, “I put hot sauce on everything,” and bought out my entire stock of Yucatan Sunshine.
“When are you going to open a store in Portland?” she moans and I laugh.
I run the Homer hustle on half a dozen or so harried parents. Santa Homer is so obnoxious I can’t bear to keep him plugged in, so I wait until he’s surrounded by little kids and then let him dance. Little kids stand mesmerized, howling with delight. Parents march into the store and buy hot sauce! I make seven dollars and fifty cents. A win/win all around
At the end of the day, I have made my nut but then there’s tomorrow to worry about.
And it’s so fucking grey.
But at least I have my starfish.
An omen?
Too bad I don’t believe in omens.
I did snag the starfish though. Just in case.
A goodly portion of my sales yesterday were what I like to refer to as mercy fuck sales. Two guys who bought Grateful Dead-inspired Chilehead t-shirts because they thought I was “plucky.” That’s what they said! “You’re so plucky.”
“Well, hey! Don’t stop there,” I said. “Let me sell you some more stuff you don’t need and may not even want.”
They laughed. But they didn’t buy anything else.
After that Allan came in. He’s the very nice gentleman who does the resort map franchise in this area. We schmoozed for a bit.
“How was the weekend?” he asked.
“We did okay,” I said. “But I don’t think there were a lot of people around.”
He shook his head. “It’s like a morgue out there today. But I guess that’s what you expect in November, huh?”
“Oh, it’s a lot slower this November than it was last November. I run the numbers obsessively. Our gross is down. But what’s really down are the number of individual sales."
“Why do you think that is?”
I shrugged. “Dunno. Gas prices? The never-ending hotel construction isn’t helping. But I think really it’s because tourists aren’t coming to Cannery Row.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Do not know,” I said softly.
His eyes roamed the shelves. “Spice Exchange Sweet Ginger sauce! That looks good!” Allan walked over and picked up a bottle. Pretended to read the ingredients. “I’ll take it!”
“Allan,” I said. “You do not have to buy that –“
“I know I do not have to buy that. I have free will!” He leaned over the counter and whispered, “I want to buy that.”
Shaking my head, I rang him up.
After that things started looking up a bit. Two frail looking little old ladies with surprisingly butch tastes in capsaicin. A beautiful young woman from Oregon who confided, “I put hot sauce on everything,” and bought out my entire stock of Yucatan Sunshine.
“When are you going to open a store in Portland?” she moans and I laugh.
I run the Homer hustle on half a dozen or so harried parents. Santa Homer is so obnoxious I can’t bear to keep him plugged in, so I wait until he’s surrounded by little kids and then let him dance. Little kids stand mesmerized, howling with delight. Parents march into the store and buy hot sauce! I make seven dollars and fifty cents. A win/win all around
At the end of the day, I have made my nut but then there’s tomorrow to worry about.
And it’s so fucking grey.
But at least I have my starfish.
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no subject
Date: 2007-11-06 09:51 pm (UTC)Starfish was dead. Not brittle enough to break. But dead.
My totemic animal is the rabbit. I married a man named Hare! And bunnies have always bounced about the periphery of my life in interesting ways. Suspect your totemic animal may be the rabbit too. Just a hunch.