Customers Who Can Bite Me Today:
- Italian lady in the acid wash jeans who asked a hundred questions and swore up and down that her friend bought some ball of wool here that we Just. Don’t. Sell. She then proceeded to pile up four hundred dollars worth of yarn on the counter only to decide to leave half of it at the last minute.
- The vandal who ripped half a dozen pages out in the middle of a $50 Rowan magazine. Listen, jerk, do us a favor and just steal the book if you want the pattern so damn bad. Don’t frickin’ RUIN it.
- Titsiana. Yes, her. We had a shoplifter on the weekend walk out with two pairs of rosewood needles and the kit for the Anny Blatt wrap I knitted. That’s well over two hundred dollars worth of stuff. Upon reviewing the security footage, guess who it was? I can’t bloody believe it. Maybe that was her plan all along, to freak everybody out with her glistening boobs and her crazy personal space issues so that the staff keep far enough away from her that she can do her thieving.
- The nice regular customer lady who complimented me on my new hairdo and then, while I was digging out some embroidery scissors for her, added “Congratulations…” and then time seemed to slow down and in that nanosecond I had about fifteen guesses for where that sentence was going to go, things like “Congratulations on your wedding!” or “Congratulations on losing the weight!” but instead she said IT, the thing that makes my blood boil â€“ “Congratulations on the baby!” Blank stare. “THERE. IS. NO. BABY.” “Oh my, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t…” “THEN LET THIS BE A LESSON TO YOU.”
Of course, it’s really that last one that burns me up the most. Here I was finally getting some confidence back and feeling really good about tonight’s WW meeting, and then some RUDE MORON has to go and ruin it all like that. The Snook tried to put a positive spin on it: “Really you should take it as a compliment, because what she was really saying was that you have a small bum.” And I can see where he’s going with that, but it doesn’t help much. All the weight I’ve lost just serves to accentuate the pot belly even more. CURSE MY APPLE-SHAPED GENES!