Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Why I don't Work in a Gift Shop
I went to the thrift shop yesterday with a few dear friends who never criticize, laugh at, or belittle me in any way. I wanted to pick up a few things for my upcoming ugly sweater party and I was not to be disappointed in the housewares department. Not only was I blessed with more festive corsages, and a little more "eye candy" in the ugly sweater magazine section, but I swiped a magnificently ugly peacock serving tray and a jello mold for my "surprise" appetizer. (You'll never guess!) My friends pitched in by pointing out some lovely stemware, six matching water glasses, and a set of coloured shot glasses that they just knew the wondering husband would enjoy. Whilst coralling a child or four, I delicately balanced my set of six liquer and four shot glasses in my deft hands. Then I leaned over to more closely study another treasure. CRASH! Oh,dear. Well, the wondering one will certainly love a set of Three coloured shot glasses, I consoled myself, as the gracious volunteer (who looked remarkably flexible for 87) swept up my embarrassing mess. I offered to pay for my faux paux but she generously waved the ten cent glasswares fee. Phew.
I wish the story ended there. It would be amusing, provide a little smile, perhaps a chuckle. But no. I leaned over again. The elderly lady had just put away the dust pan. I nearly licked up the floor myself just to avoid admitting AGAIN that I'd covered the floor in millions of splinters and shards. My friends, the ones I have nothing but kind things to say about RAN out of the room, not even muffling their squeals of laughter.
The set of six water glasses? Well, one smashed on the kitchen floor last night after I carefully washed it. The second one lay shattered at the bottom of the sink, as my bleeding finger can testify.
And that my friends, is why I do not work in a gift shop.