shopgirl

last week a designer i bought some hot red shoes from went to great lengths to track down my phone number.

by "great lengths" i mean that she rummaged through the garbage bin in her shop in search of the layby docket with my name and number on it.

that's kinda great isn't it? garbage bins are yucky.

when she called i immediately assumed i had forgotten something in the shop, like my wallet or head. i've been known to forget both on occasion.

but instead she told me that the reason she was phoning was because she "sensed a deep sadness within me" and she wanted to make sure i "was okay".

and though i was a little freaked out, i told her she sensed right, and that yes, i was. or i would be. one day. i hope.

then she asked me to come back to the shop to see her. to be honest i was ever so slightly concerned for my safety, unused to random women calling me to tell me of the "strong impression" my presence has left on them. but i went all the same.

when i got there we made tea and smoked cigarettes in the change rooms and chatted away like old friends.

and then she offered me a job. which i turned down. but it was nice of her to offer all the same.

yup, it was just another strange ol' day in nadstown.