Read Online Remember When (Remember Trilogy #1) by T. Torrest - Free Book Online
Authors: T. Torrest
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rudimentary understanding of the Spanish language even after two years of having taken it as an elective.
Martin looked at me as if he was sure I’d suffered a major head injury on my way to work that day, but proceeded to ask one of the other “associates” to mind the store while he dealt with me.
First on the agenda was to take me into the back office so he could print me up a new nametag. While it was running through the laminator, he went to a storage locker and grabbed me a navy blue vest. Along with my khaki pants and light blue Oxford (would my body never escape from a button-down shirt?), I was to wear my vest “at all times”.
“Even when I’m not here?” I joked as I put it on.
Martin didn’t get it. “Uh, no. Just while you’re working your shift.”
Detract one point for the sarcastic new employee.
I didn’t really think it was necessary for Martin to actually pin my nametag on my vest himself. I mean, I have arms and all. But I figured that was the closest his hands had actually ever been to a real live boob before, so I didn’t make a big deal about it. Hell, why not give the poor kid a thrill? Besides, if I even dared to make a joke (which he wouldn’t have gotten anyway), he’d have probably blushed twelve different shades of red before passing out from embarrassment.
We left the office and Martin gave me a quick tutorial on the register before showing me around the store. Most of my “training” was pretty ridiculous and unnecessary.
Here’s a sample conversation:
Martin: “Okay, see the wall, here? This is where we keep our New Releases.”
Me: “Oh, you mean you keep the new releases along the wall under the HUGE SIGN that says ‘New Releases’?”
Martin (not registering my sarcasm): “Yes, that’s right. A new release is any video that has come into the store recently. Mostly, it’s the category for movies that are less than a year old.”
Me (bored): “Uh-huh.”
Martin: “So let’s give you a pop quiz. Say I’m a customer-”
Me: “You’re a customer.”
Martin (seriously): “Uh, yes. I’m a customer and I ask you where I can find Lethal Weapon . What do you do?”
Me: “Call the cops?”
Martin (finally realizing that I was screwing with him): “C’mon, Layla. You need to know this.”
Me: Martin, look. Don’t worry about it. It’s pretty self-explanatory. I know how to read and I’m sure I’ll be able to steer any customers in the right direction.” And then, to toss him a bone and make him feel all managerial, I added, “What I really need is another lesson on the register. Think you could go over that again with me?”
This made Martin puff up a little with authority. “Sure, no problem.”
He spent a good twenty minutes going over checkout with me and I knew I should have been hanging on his every instruction so as not to look like a big dummy later on. But instead, I became mesmerized by the patterns of zits on his cheek. I was mentally connecting the dots to form The Big Dipper... and that’s when Trip walked in... with Tess.
They didn’t see me as they giggled over some private joke on their way over to the Comedy section.
I was planning on busying myself behind the counter checking in the pile of returned videos, but Martin asked me to set up a cardboard display of Back to the Future Part III instead. I took the stack of cutouts from him and sat down in the middle of the store to put it together.
So it was in the midst of attaching a “Coming Soon” sign to Christopher Lloyd’s kneecap when I heard Trip say, “Hey, Layla! There you are.”
I put down my project and tried to look surprised to see him. Had Tess not been standing right there, I would have thrown out a flirty line like, “Why, were you looking for me?” but I figured it probably wouldn’t have gone over too well in front of the
Martin looked at me as if he was sure I’d suffered a major head injury on my way to work that day, but proceeded to ask one of the other “associates” to mind the store while he dealt with me.
First on the agenda was to take me into the back office so he could print me up a new nametag. While it was running through the laminator, he went to a storage locker and grabbed me a navy blue vest. Along with my khaki pants and light blue Oxford (would my body never escape from a button-down shirt?), I was to wear my vest “at all times”.
“Even when I’m not here?” I joked as I put it on.
Martin didn’t get it. “Uh, no. Just while you’re working your shift.”
Detract one point for the sarcastic new employee.
I didn’t really think it was necessary for Martin to actually pin my nametag on my vest himself. I mean, I have arms and all. But I figured that was the closest his hands had actually ever been to a real live boob before, so I didn’t make a big deal about it. Hell, why not give the poor kid a thrill? Besides, if I even dared to make a joke (which he wouldn’t have gotten anyway), he’d have probably blushed twelve different shades of red before passing out from embarrassment.
We left the office and Martin gave me a quick tutorial on the register before showing me around the store. Most of my “training” was pretty ridiculous and unnecessary.
Here’s a sample conversation:
Martin: “Okay, see the wall, here? This is where we keep our New Releases.”
Me: “Oh, you mean you keep the new releases along the wall under the HUGE SIGN that says ‘New Releases’?”
Martin (not registering my sarcasm): “Yes, that’s right. A new release is any video that has come into the store recently. Mostly, it’s the category for movies that are less than a year old.”
Me (bored): “Uh-huh.”
Martin: “So let’s give you a pop quiz. Say I’m a customer-”
Me: “You’re a customer.”
Martin (seriously): “Uh, yes. I’m a customer and I ask you where I can find Lethal Weapon . What do you do?”
Me: “Call the cops?”
Martin (finally realizing that I was screwing with him): “C’mon, Layla. You need to know this.”
Me: Martin, look. Don’t worry about it. It’s pretty self-explanatory. I know how to read and I’m sure I’ll be able to steer any customers in the right direction.” And then, to toss him a bone and make him feel all managerial, I added, “What I really need is another lesson on the register. Think you could go over that again with me?”
This made Martin puff up a little with authority. “Sure, no problem.”
He spent a good twenty minutes going over checkout with me and I knew I should have been hanging on his every instruction so as not to look like a big dummy later on. But instead, I became mesmerized by the patterns of zits on his cheek. I was mentally connecting the dots to form The Big Dipper... and that’s when Trip walked in... with Tess.
They didn’t see me as they giggled over some private joke on their way over to the Comedy section.
I was planning on busying myself behind the counter checking in the pile of returned videos, but Martin asked me to set up a cardboard display of Back to the Future Part III instead. I took the stack of cutouts from him and sat down in the middle of the store to put it together.
So it was in the midst of attaching a “Coming Soon” sign to Christopher Lloyd’s kneecap when I heard Trip say, “Hey, Layla! There you are.”
I put down my project and tried to look surprised to see him. Had Tess not been standing right there, I would have thrown out a flirty line like, “Why, were you looking for me?” but I figured it probably wouldn’t have gone over too well in front of the
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