I've been working till close a lot the past couple of weeks at work, so I'm back on my night owl schedule, staying up ridiculously late and sleeping in correspondingly (the more to look at the tree all glowing in the dark, of course). This morning I rolled myself out of bed a little earlier in order to get to work on time -- middle of the day shift, according to my memory.
So I got to work, clipped the wired walkie to my pocket, and walked around helping people find books, cheerily greeting customers and coworkers alike, establishing a new merry Christmas nihilism, and folding (and folding and folding and folding) the Twilight T-shirts on the front table, which keeps hurling me back into my Ann Taylor days gritting my teeth and wondering why people are compelled to unfold and fling about every article of clothing they see.
Knowing the store had a steady line of traffic, and wondering when my break appeared on the schedule, I went to the information desk to check. And was confused. I was only supposed to be working till 6:30 and my break was scheduled for 9:00...
Waaaait a minute.
Oh crap. I'm not on for 12:00 to 6:30; I'm on for 6:00 to 12:30.
I hied myself back to the break room and explained, laughing, to the managers. Instead of getting mad, they laughed and told me to come back at six.
Yes, the dyslexia...
Me so smart.
2 comments:
I is a pronoun.
Okay, that's funny.
And you're right, of course: "You" is indeed a pronoun.
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