I don't know if it's going to be a powerful moon or what tomorrow, but I do know that I have had several "Character" interactions this week.
Thank you, retail gods.
First of all, I had an older guy, late 60's or early 70's roll up to my counter in his wheelchair. He had a tube of oxygen running down the side of his face and a canteen fastened to the back of his chair. He was sending money via WU. I made a comment that he was pretty experienced with the system because he knew what steps to take before I told him. He said, "Yeah, my fiance has trouble paying her rent, so I have to send her money."
"Where does she live?" I asked, just making conversation.
"Brazil," He answered.
Oh, dude! You are so being scammed. Contrary to belief, Latin America is not full of Glorias looking for their Jay Pritchett. And this guy looked more like Mr. Burns on Simpsons anyway.
My boss said, "They just want to be loved."
And I countered, "Let's be real, they just want to be loved by a hot number."
Then later that day--Monday, my Friday--a disheveled woman with stringy blond hair, red eyes, and a blotchy face came into the store. This woman proceeded to tell the front cashier that she doesn't know who she is, that she doesn't know where she lives, and that she went to a party the night before and woke up with this total amnesia.
Our cashier called up the store manager because this was way above her pay grade.
He lead the woman over to the photo department and got her a chair to sit down in so he can call 9*1*1. The woman insisted she didn't want to see the police as they won't help her.
I went up to the photo counter to look something up and listen to the woman's rantings. I was trying to decide if she had been drugged at the party or if she was freaking nuts.
"I just want to go home. I know I'm a mom, I can feel it. I want to see my friends. I'm sure I'm the type of person who has friends. I just want to go home. I don't want the police. They'll just say I'm crazy and won't help. I'm not crazy. I just want to go home." This dialogue was repeated in between short crying jags.
The paramedics showed up and she practically flew from the chair, but then settled back down. After all, they were fireman. They were saints, talking to her soothing tones they talked her down from the ledge she'd talked herself onto. They convinced her to let them strap her onto the stretcher and when they wheeled her out, her arms were bound by the belts. For everyone's safety, I'm sure.
I think I've come to the conclusion that the woman was crazy. But, what if she wasn't? How would you react if you woke up in a house you didn't recognize and you didn't know who you were. At one time, she said, "I look in the mirror and I don't know who I'm looking at." And yes, there was a mirror behind her, so that was plausible.
She also didn't have any ID in her bag or anything to go on. So, the possibility was there that she had gone to a party, gotten drugged, and developed amnesia. Except, how would she know she'd been at a party the night before?
If she did have amnesia and recovered, I'd like her to come in and tell us, so I can ask her questions. LOL You never know when this will come in handy.
Like the lady kayaker I started questioning on Sunday. She came in looking for a tripod to mount on her kayak so she could take pictures as she was going.
I wonder what the full moon has in store for the weekend?