The rack of clothing in the dressing room is crammed with thin material that can hardly be called shirts. Customers walk by, fling their poorly chosen clothes onto the metal bar and walk back out to the floor of the store. Within an hour of opening, the dressing room is utter chaos. The entrance is only big enough for one worker, so she struggles to organize the clothing. Customers moving, walkie talkers blasting and employees scrambling to find go-backs for their section: the dressing room.
My movements in the morning hours were stealthy. I would pick up fallen clothes, fold wrinkly displays and secure any loose hangers without being seen. It was quite possible that I was the most productive worker on the floor but, like Batman, my good deeds went unnoticed. Customers were not ignored despite my penchant for silent production. The vast majority of the time, my friendly greeting would be shrugged off. "How are you this morning, do you need any help with anything today?" I would say with a smile made of gold. "No, I'm just.. no thanks." At least this response was audible.
Once in a while I would find a normal person for a customer and almost forget how to act in a social situation. "Let me ask you a question; what is your favorite song for this day?" She asked. "Dresses are loca - wait." Flabbergasting. Some of my fellow employees were quite unique as well. Case and point, my first manager. She was tall with long brown hair and always wore heels, which was strange because retail doesn't allow much time to sit. Her voice was breathy, yet still boisterous. I never quite caught her name the first few days, I could have sworn I heard people call her Nick. A bit different, I thought. Then, I overheard my fellow employees refer to her as him. Curious. It was about this time I noticed she had an Adams apple. She, or rather he, really just had a knack for cross dressing. Well-played, Nickolaus, well-played.
Even though I was surrounded by these interesting people, I found it was best to play Walter Mitty. With my arms full of go-backs I would briskly walk around in the sections with a soccer ball at my feet and a stadium of fans cheering my ever move. "Here comes Riddle down the right side, step over, step over, a burst of speed! Genius! Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta! GOAAALLLL!" The crowd loves me! My co-workers don't even notice because they're in their own world, just like me.
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