Cash.

Working at Linens N Things is sometimes a really amusing time. 

Take tonight, for instance. Three hours into my shift a whole slew of immigrants decided to grace me with their presence, form an 8 person line, and each buy one (1) plastic tablecloth, except for one lady who bought a tablecloth AND like fourteen of the random Barbie dolls we keep by the register to provoke tantrum throwing children. The first man, whom I can only assume to be the leader of the pack, marched right up to me, grinned broadly to reveal two gleaming rows of copper teeth and said...

"Cash." 

(Translation: We would each like to pay for our tablecloth and/or Barbies with cash, please.)

I didn't even bother to ask their phone number or whether or not they were assisted, because frankly I didn't forsee any point to it, as I was already shouting what they owed because I could not recognize for the life of me what language they were spitting at me. 

Then, after five long hours of my job, I had to trek out to my car, which I had been forced to park way far away from the store, and was promptly attacked by Mr. and Mrs. Smith, aka Kristina and Dan, who were lurking behind my vehicle and, upon my opening the driver's side door, proceeded to throw a rope at me and jump out. My reaction? I screamed, fell into my car backwards, and kicked Kristina in the stomach. It's a good thing I don't have my pepper spray license yet, or that mace would have definitely gone off in my pocket when I fell back and would have caused major damage to either my skin or the interior of Max.

I pretty much define sitting duck. Oh, well.

Time for bed and books.