C.E.O. (Customer Excellence Officer)

I don't know what I get paid, and all in all I don't care at all. I work at a grocery store. I spent the past three days packing rectangular bags with objects all different shapes and sizes. Tetris anyone?
I gave health advice I'm not at all qualified to give. This season I'm recommending you get omega three fatty acids from a plant-based source (flax) to keep your skin glowing and your mood elevated. Take oil of oregano for anything that ails you. Eat beets.
I saw old favourites. Mrs. Kettleborough (bags packed light) taught me how to pronounce her first name in the most over-the-top Kettleborough way. I love that every single time she signs her bill her name runs over the line and then bends down along the side of the receipt.
I saw my boss. She calls me "babygurrrrrl", periodically gives me bear hugs, and keeps me company during breaks.

I also babysit. Tonight I played with lightsabers, explained the dark side, and made tie fighters out of sticks.

My fee should be something like negative five dollars/hour. I should pay you for letting me tell you about my holidays while you pass me your credit cards. I should pay you for feeding me, letting me play with your toys, and giving me picture books to read. Bosses/parents make momentary monetary lapses in judgement and give me cheques and dollars for doing things I like to do. Oh well.


Note: I'm glorifying the grocery store, but in doses small and spread apart it's actually as lovely as it sounds. And yeah, our name tags actually say "C.E.O", and yeah, I've probably heard that joke.