Coffee, Life, Work

When Freddie Met Ozzy/Halloween.

PREFACE:
I acknowledge that this post is a tad late. I’ve been working a few extended shifts and have therefore not had the time to access the internet and actually post this. Forgive me!

There’s a man working at the Shell station down the road. I think his name is Sheldon. He replaced Tammy when her local stalker got to be too intense and she up and quit. Until a couple weeks ago, Sheldon was always a bit rude to my mother when she went to turn in her winning lottery tickets and buy more. Granted, she wins over and over again and typically takes awhile at the counter so when people would come in to pay for gas, Sheldon would brush Mom aside and help them before continuing with the lottery.

Mom was not happy.

Something must’ve happened to change that, because Sheldon has quickly become one of my mom’s buddies. My mother can win ANYONE over, I assure you. She tells me that she had a conversation about the Bible with Sheldon and after that, they were cool. (Mom’s very religious in a non-zealot way. You should see her extensive Jesus collection.)

Sheldon bought a guitar from a friend of his who was hurting for cash. I’ve been told the friend is in a band, which probably explains why he sold the guitar. Musicians are notorious for being broke, and I can say that because I belong to that club. Well, Sheldon already has two guitars, a banjo, and an assortment of other instruments and decided to sell his friend’s guitar for the tidy sum of $100.

Best believe I snatched that shit up as fast as possible.

It’s an Oscar Schmidt by Washburn. Black, shiny, with a couple dents in it from the destitute musician dropping it when he’d had a few. It’s seen a lot of action, which is precisely why I like it. I’ve only ever had hand-me-down guitars. I feel like they have a lot of personality and character, and this particular guitar has it in spades. This is also the first guitar I’ve actually purchased. My mother gave me my Yamaha when I moved out — it’s the same guitar I’ve been playing for ten years.

Now I’ve got a new baby to go with it. I’ve named him Ozzy.

I spent some time restringing it the other night, unwinding the thick, aged strings and fitting it with the new ones Sheldon provided. I broke one of the pegs though, so I had to skip one of the strings and drag my arse to Connor’s music for some supplies.

Halloween was memorable. I dressed up as the self-proclaimed Queen Of The Ocean, complete with seashell-esque breast coverings and a crown of blue coral. My coworkers got into the spirit too. Amber was a bunny — I pinned her tail on for her and managed to avoid a sexual harrassment lawsuit by NOT accidentally touching her ass. Watching her ears fall forward and nearly topple off her head was a source of great entertainment for me. Eliot was a sailor, which I thought fit quite nicely with my ocean theme. Andrea dressed up as a hippie, and I especially liked her peace sign necklace. Very groovy. Simon taped three black circles to the side of his apron (he elected to wear it, it wasn’t mandatory) and informed us he was a “Three-Hole-Punched Version Of Himself”. He gets bonus points for on-the-spot creativity. When Andrew and Jo showed up around 2, they were dressed as a beat-up detective and a coffee kitty, respectively. Their makeup was worth mentioning, too. Andrew had a fake black eye, a cut on his cheek, and his nose was fake-bleeding. Jo had an adorable black kitty-nose and whiskers, and I must mention the fluffiness of her cat ears. (So fluffy I could DIE!) Her apron proclaimed her to be some sort of coffee expert, and I never argue with apron proclamations.

My favorite part was counting the number of older men I caught ogling my seashells. I didn’t quite fill them out as nicely as I wish, but I sure get points for trying. One man made a point of complimenting my earrings, probably so he could make it seem like he was focusing on something located above my chest. Liar.

It was a lot of fun, especially early in the morning when people in the drive-thru were trying to make sense of why the hell they’re being served by people dressed so strangely.
I served Cruella DeVil in the drive thru. Her hair was spectacular. Half black, half white, and stuck off in all directions. “HAVE YOU SEEN MY PUPPIES?!” she screamed before taking off in her minivan. Classic.

Oh, and a woman in her mid-forties showed up for coffee dressed as Psy. You probably know him from that damn Gangnam Style song that gets stuck in your head and refuses to quit. (HEEEEEEEYYYYYYYY, SEXY LADY.) She played the song on her phone and did Psy’s crazy dance for at least ten minutes. “I’ve got a Gangnam Style cappuccino for Psy on the bar,” I yelled when her drink was done. I couldn’t resist.

I have my doubts that next year will surpass this one… but we’ll see.

In other news: The countdown has begun! TWENTY-TWO DAYS REMAINING.

Speak freely.

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