Sunday, May 9th, 2010...10:12 pm

The Nuts Crackers Sweet -or- Rich White People Is Crazy

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I saw a female customer standing just a few feet from me, doing a strange little shuffle. I thought it might be the potty dance, with which I am intimately acquainted and frequently practice. I moved a bit closer, pretending to tend to some plants near her.

“Good morning. Can I help you find something?”

She looked a little more surprised than the situation called for, but continued the side to side jiglet.

“Nope. I’m good.”

Then, something caught my eye. A tiny paper sample cup was balled up in her fist. There’s no way you can do my job for three years and not develop a sixth sense for these things. I looked down. Mrs. Bojangles was standing in a puddle of coffee, spreading it around with her feet.

She saw me glance at the floor and her face turned a deep red. Not so red that she asked for a paper towel, though. Instead, she turned on her heel and made to walk away, her first step being mighty unsure. That’s right, she slipped in her own mess, doing a little move I haven’t seen since Baryshnikov. It wasn’t a grand jeté or anything, but it was pretty great.

I didn’t bother to stifle my gleeful laughter as she sulked away, humiliated. I figured she owed me that, since I was the one who had to mop up her little accident.

A bit later, I heard the familiar beep that precedes a page over the store-wide sound system, mostly used to page a manager or announce a phone call. Instead of a coworker’s voice, though, the one that came through the speakers was that of a stranger.

“Would the person who is driving the white Mercedes and left their child in the car please go back outside and GET that child before I call the police? Do it for yourself, do it for your child, do it for all of us. AND DON’T DO IT AGAIN.”

We’re running a BOGO on parental guilt, people. Get it while it’s hot and fresh.

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