The Weirdness of Leaving a Store and Returning

Once upon a time, when the ‘Bucks in Cow Town was brand new, there was this a Shift Supervisor, I’ll call her FCCM, who decided that what I needed more than anything was a girlfriend. She proceeded to bombard me with questions about what I like in a girl. She wanted to know how important looks were. She needed to know what quirks drove me crazy. And, most important to her, am I an ass man.

I answered all of her questions with red cheeks and began suffering.

“What do you thing of her?” FCCM asked, pointing at a customer. “Do you like her ass?”

Or, while I was washing dishes, she would charge into the back room, grab my soapy hand, drag me to the front, and, among a crowd of coworkers, she’d point and say, “Her! What about her?”

About three months after FCCM started her crusade she came to me early one morning and said, “I’ve figured it out.”

“What?” I asked.

“I know who you should date. I’ve found the perfect woman for you.”

“Okay.”

“Do you wanna know who?”

“It’s not that woman with the baby, is it?”

“No,” she said and hit my arm. “It’s someone you know and already like.”

“I already like her?”

“Yeah, you like her, but you don’t know that you like her yet. She’s perfect of you.”

“And who is this vision of perfection?” I have to admit, I wasn’t really close attention.

“I think you should ask NBJW out.”

I dropped the pastries I was handling. “NBJW? Why her?” And, before you ask, JW does stand for what you think it means.

“Because you two get along so well. You have the same type of sense of humor. You both watch the same TV shows. You’re perfect for each other.”

“Maybe as friends,” I said, picking the scones off the floor.

“NO!” she said. “Not as friends. You and her are em eff ee oh.”

“As friends.”

“Why as friends?”

“Main reason? Religion,” I said. “I, quite often, say some off color things about religion, in general, and Christianity specifically.”

“And what does that have anything to do with anything?”

“You can forgive a friend for saying, ‘Yesterday, my dog shat Jesus.’ but not a boyfriend.”

“She’s not that religious.”

“Except she goes to church twice a week.”

“Fine,” FCCM said, walking away.

Occasionally, after that, FCCM would tell me that I should ask NBJW out, but sort of left it alone.

Yesterday, I was told I could leave work a half hour early. As I was finishing up, NBJW, who is now a Shift Supervisor, asked me to help her roll the bazillion coins from the tips. So I did.

We sat at a table in the back room laughing, quoting cartoons, and flicking pennies at coworkers. It was fun.

My time in the store ran out just as we finished rolling the coins. NBJW gathered up the coins and I packed up my stuff.

On my way out, The Manager (who was The Assistant Manager in the beginning) grabbed my arm and pulled me into the corner by the big fridge. “You like her,” she said.

“Like who?”

“NBJW. I heard you two laughing back there.”

“Yeah, it was fun.”

“I think you two should hook up.”

My jaw dropped. My eyes rolled. And I hightailed it out of there.