Act 1, Scene 3

Okay, so more on the same day:

Tonight is the first night that I am forced to close the store all by myself. Everything is totally smooth sailing until about 6:04pm. (We close at 7:00) It is at this point that I am literally slammed with a group of loud, high maintenance Turkish women, one British woman, a kindly older man, and I'm pretty sure a cranky old fart.
All of the sudden, not a single rack in the store holds a shirt that is the proper size, proper style, etc. "Do you have this with long sleeves in a Medium?" I'm pretty sure we don't. "Sure, let me just check... [Fuuu--- why did I say we have it? We don't have it!] ...um...I'm not finding it ma'am." "WELL look faster. We have a time no more." "Oh, okay, [secretly wishing that a non-existant shirt will magically appear on back room shelves...] How about a small with short sleeved instead?" ....Evil Turkish look ensues.

Flash foreward thirty minutes. My immaculate store is in complete disarray, I'm pretty sure I gave the pissed off Turkish lady the wrong watch (please God, don't let her come back while I'm still here), and the kindly old man got the local discount for being patient and kindly while the crabby one just sat and glared, not buying anything. Still, I've almost reached my $1,500 kickA goal for the night. Just $5.00 short... Damn why didn't I talk those people into getting something else? Why did I give the kindly old man the discount? Blehhhh. Okay, well I think I'm going to go lock the doors now, so that I can count the cash, refold freaking EVERYTHING, put stuff back and then begin my long and creepy ride home to my little condo all byu myself on the bus. Please let my Latino brethren not be there tonight. I am NOT calling Cake again and pretending he's my spouse.

And so ends yet another exciting day in Vail...