Monday, October 25, 2010

Let me tell you about Frieda...

So I was working at my second job today, at the party store, putting back some stray crap that you people (I mean humankind in general, you nasty gunkholes) like to leave in random parts of the store, and I happened upon Five-Dollar Frieda, and I was this close to yelling "Frieda!! How are you??"

That doesn't make up much of a story, I know, but there's a backdrop I need to lay, first.

Maybe two years ago, while I was at my first job at the electronics store, I was idling around the registers as this homely-looking lady was finishing up her transaction. It was all fine until the cashier says, "And look at that, you saved five dollars", which was nice and pleasant, and all. Then the customer exclaims, I mean literally, exclaims, "Wow! Now I can get that TV I've been looking at!"

But, the stupid thing is, she meant it. I mean, she wasn't being sarcastic, she, like, was ecstatic about it. She was all reading her receipt to make sure the cashier wasn't frippering around with her emotions, and by golly, she had saved five fricking dollars and she was darn proud of herself.

And, come on, really, had she been looking at a TV-shaped PEZ dispenser? What kind of television set could be expected at the price of 5 dollars? Like, what, she'd been saving up and by NOT spending this money she had put herself right on target? What kind of sense does that make? Whatever.

Anyway, in that moment (and every time she comes into my first job), I just took it upon myself to name her Five-Dollar Frieda, and some of the other employees have, too, but don't tell her that, because she's homely and already wears mom-jeans and an horrible coat and awful Keds, so more ridicule would just pummel her unnecessarily.

What was the point here...

Oh, so I saw her at the party store looking through her coupons and I thought it was funny that I almost called her out on her frugality. Plus, she would have said something like "Oh, no, my name's Mary-Anne."

No offense if you're name's Mary-Anne.
Or Frieda, for that matter.

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