Wednesday, September 4, 2013

An excerpt from the Children portion of ReTales.

      "I think I should establish that I hate children. There is the rare example where they are lovely and polite. But I work in retail, where they’re all tiny, unpredictable, filthy pink eye factories. There are few things more gross than kids being forced to eat in motion. For example, having French fries or ice cream shoved into their greedy traps while walking through a pet store. 
However, kids having tantrums is the best; kudos to the parents who just leave their kids screaming on the dirty mall floor, and walk away. Nailed it.
I think people have this glamorized, idealistic view of a pet store. All the staff does all day is cuddle animals. These animals don’t ever poop or need to be fed, and apparently there is no customer service factor either.
Thomas was a treat. He was a little Asian boy who would come into the store every day and stare at me at cash. He stared at everyone, but I happened to be at cash the most, so I’d have these awkward encounters with Thomas every shift. I’m terrible with kids. One day I introduced myself to a toddler and went to shake their hand. I talk to them like they’re all 30. I can’t help it.

I asked Thomas one day what his name was. He said, “Thomas.” He was about five. I guess I didn’t take into account the language barrier that apparently still remained. Because when I followed that question with, “Now where are your parents?”, he thought I meant, “Please pull your pants down to your ankles and create a scene.” 
For some reason, parents find it acceptable to send their kids in all day long to be babysat by the staff. It makes no sense. One day, this particularly obnoxious kid was getting handsy with the rawhide. When I asked it where its legal guardian was, it told me not worry, and then showed me a whistle. “My mom gave me this in case I get lost.” Oh, cool. So when your abductor takes your whistle, then what Mom?! Then what. Don’t  worry, I’ll handle it. Just enjoy your Tim Horton’s coffee; I got you. Afterwards, feel free to let your hair down and take a browse in Northern Reflections. Afterall, your spawn has a fucking whistle. Also, kids don’t blow whistles when there’s trouble. If they have a whistle, it doesn’t leave their mouth."


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