“Come again?” I asked. The woman just kept smiling with that red stained mouth.
“I have been very nice to you, Mr. Friend. I can change that. I’ll ask you once more. Are the Twinkies on sale?”
I sighed. I hated my job at the minimart more than anything, but it was dingbats like this one that really made me want to jump off a cliff. What’s more, my manager insisted on printing full names on the name tags, so even if I fended off a pushy customer at work, they could always harass me on Facebook.
“Are you listening to me, Gavin Friend?” This woman would probably have her 15 year old son create a Facebook for her, just so she could torment me.
“Yes, I am listening. And no, the Twinkies are not on sale. And no, I don’t know the next time they will be on sale. But, I guarantee you, someday, they will be. Now, would you still like them or not?”
The woman narrowed her eyes and handed my her debit card.
I looked at it and smiled.
“Thank you very much, Darla Greene.”