it was a warm, kinda humid day in our great city. i'm at my place of employment, selling an assortment of sporting goods ranging from the standard to the ridiculous (feel free to replace the word "ridiculous" with any of the following: expensive, bougie, non-functioning, awesome, best underwear ever). there's not a whole lot of traffic in our little store that could. that's a problem. i'm trying to hit my sales target before the end of the fiscal year. that bonus money is public transit money. it's that new phone money. it's that pay-some-bills-around-the-house money. in order to get that gwop (not to be confused with guwop), I would have to put on my Lux cape and put in work.
in case there was any doubt, I was putting in said work.
and oh man, I was on a roll. customer walks in, we talked, we interact, we bonded, knock knock, who's there, upsell, upsell who, too late, boom, items per transactions were going through the roof. i'm out here pushing kayanos and nike frees like it's nothing. it didn't matter what they needed. for one day only, I was the freeway rick ross of runners, the al capone of crocs, the the joe pesci of...persol? like swim goggles? cool. how about some for your kids? oh, no kids? no kids...yet. i'm out here convincing couples to invest in their future. society was, is, and will be better because of it, but I digress.
this lady walks into my department (note the pronoun) with three kids. using my skills of deduction and abduction, I figure out that the three kids were indeed hers. she's looking at getting her crew of three and herself all geared up for a day on the courts. it's time for me to lay on the charm extra-thick. she's loving the quality customer service. my integrity oozes out of me as I break down the differences between aluminum and graphite. all is good. you gotta remember when dealing with parents and their kids in a retail setting, you need to win one group over. you fail to charm either group and say goodbye to your diamond-encrusted bus pass. either you appeal to the mother and start talking about UV rays and hydration or you win over the kids with your silly voices and sillier jokes. in this case, I chose the former. she loved me.
when it came to grabbing a bag to carry all of her new equipment, she was a bit hesitant. it was a huge bag, one that she had very little use for. remember the rule: gotta win over the parents or the kids. I started to spit some realness about "you've got plenty of space for shoes and clothes" with a little "you could throw in some snacks and water in here" on the side. it was a wrap. bottom of the 9th, I swished a home-run in overtime. a look of relief and sheer joy comes across her face. she then looks at me and says,
"that's a brilliant idea. you must have kids of your own!"
confused, I smiled and walked her up to cash.
now, this is no ask-a-lady-if-she's-pregnant-when-really-she-has-a-large-stomach faux-pas, but damn lady. what made you think that I have kids? luckily, i've narrowed it down in my head, yo.
1) age. "understanding, patient, looks 28; he must have kids!" i'm getting all my aging done now so between the ages of 30 through 60, I will look the same.
2) temperament "he's too chill and too cool and too understanding. only those with kids would understand" translation = EFF YO EMPATHY.
3) it's because i'm a young black male and her innocent statement was more of a embodiment of stereotypes engrained in her subconsciousness rather than a snide remark with malicious intent. i'm playing the black card in defence mode, doe.
BUT I PREFER THE TERM AFRICAN-AMERICAN EXPRESS.
oh, and I'm gonna hit that next sales target easily.
SWEET QUEEN CORRETA.
powerful offcentered fifty gif
ReplyDeleteThat was one long-winded humblebrag.
ReplyDelete