Yesterday at work the second customer in line leaned out saying, "Hello, Jessica!"  I cringed at the sound of his familiar voice.  I just don't like the way he looks at, talks to and treats me.  I especially don't like that he says my name with the three syllables so distinct even though I told him there was no "i" in my name.  He didn't take the correction or bother to learn it properly. For someone who's trying to sway my affection it's a surprising (and almost insulting) mistake.

He asks if I work Saturday afternoons and I say I normally don't. Very little eye-contact.  Cringe. He replies, "Yeah -- it's usually the blonde," with a note of arrogance that doesn't fly with me.  How special that you know our schedules.  Perhaps by "special" I mean "creepy" or "inappropriate to share".  He's really trying to engage me in conversation and act like we know each other.  It bothers me that he insists we know each other, and more so when others are around.

Without really thinking (thank You, Jesus), I said sternly, "Her name is Alison*," because I don't care about schedules or what he finds surprising or interesting but I do care about women being treated with respect.  "The blonde."  Such garbage.  You're gonna tell me you know what shifts she works but you don't remember her name?  Get out of my face.  (...apparently this still bothers me.)

Then there was a surprising moment that diminished my frustration significantly, even though I feel I kinda missed it (the moment).  The customer I was presently serving, who was using the debit/credit pinpad, laughed at my retort. He 100% understood what I was implying and thought it was funny that I would try to put this guy in his place. Ha. I was too preoccupied to connect with him on it though I'm sure it would have been one of those great knowing glances between strangers.  (I guess I wasn't expecting anything from him based on his body language and speech but now the door might be just cracked slightly and maybe I'll remember him next time.)

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I wasn't going to type this and now it's 168 days past my bed time but here we go.  I just remembered that on Tuesday, when two coverall-ed coworkers came in for the third time, I took a shot in the dark to break the ice.  (Two idioms in one sentence -- did you see that?) One of them sometimes gives me looks like he's expecting me to talk or we have talked in the past (I don't remember) and the other is just a jovial kind of easy-going dude who brings levity to the former.  They walked up with their whatevers (beef jerky and energy drinks, I think) and I said, my hand poised like I was confirming the order from table 12, "You guys do actually go to work when you're not here, right?"

Pause to process the shock of non-cashier talk, pause to process the sarcasm and taking of the mick, then laughter and mock hurt.  They legit tried to explain how, when you're in maintenance, you can't exactly create or predict work but I wasn't having any of it.  They end up chatting among themselves (as most couplets in this situation do -- it's safer) and I slip back into cashier mode.  I like it when I can tell the stone wall has come crashing down between a regular and myself.

Best flavor is when they came in the next time and the one guy yelled all the way from the door, "I know, I know - we don't work," showing that he's not exactly creative with humor but he liked the running joke.  Nonetheless, I was so caught of guard and delighted that I legit spit my water out.  Another door cracked but I'm not even sure what's next.  There we go.  Bed time.


*name changed for privacy!