Saturdays really clip along at the hobby shop. There's people pouring in and trickling out slowly, wandering through the ailes for hour after hour. Today, one woman approached the cash register and announced rather fecklessly that she had lost her husband.
"Caboose Hobbies: Stealing Husbands since 1938."
It's strange to be the one behind the counter for once. Strange to be the one counting the money out, worrying about giving back the incorrect amount of change rather than getting it. Strange to be the one fumbling with the bag while they stand there, holding the credit card. It's strange to be the one who has to have all the answers, and difficult to not have any.
The strangest part though, by far, is to be the 'new kid.' I've always been so comfortable with where I am and who I'm with, it's difficult for me to be in a learning situation, especially when no one is learning along side me. I can't help feel embarassed when I make a mistake or I have to ask my coworkers to explain something--again.However, I like to feel that I'm a fast learner, so I convince myself that I'm doing well. I've memorized most of my coworker's names, and I have the art of cashiering pretty well covered.
There are still a lot of bugs to work out of my not-so-skilled technique, but there's time to learn them.
Plenty of time.
Paul has worked at the hobby store for four years, Mara for five, Antje for God knows how long. I hopefully won't be there for more than two.Just two more. Two more to scan and smile, even when I don't want to. To scan and wish strangers a nice day, like a robot. Two years before I graduate and go away.
This is not my career. This is just my job.
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