Today at Work

customer: can I ask you a favour?

manager: we don't do favours.

customer: but I'm a paying customer!

me: no favours; it's store policy.

customer: but I'm buying something!

manager: what are you buying?

customer: this candle.

manager: Oh, a whole candle!? How much is that, $2.37? Are you mad? We can't keep that kind of cash lying around here. I'll do a bank run right away so I can deposit $2.37. Thea, get me my running shoes.

Update

So I'm still living in my friend's closet. Despite the obvious drawback of having the cubic footage of a small dumpster, I actually like living here. And it's nice to know that my streak of moving into successively smaller bedrooms ends here, unless I next move into a bathroom stall.

Last week I was toying with the idea of getting a job, lest my friends should ask me to move out of their closet anytime soon. I was walking along 4th Avenue with a bladder full of coffee, looking for a place where I could pee without having to buy something. I popped into a store where I used to work and asked to use the bathroom. Then I noticed the Help Wanted sign, and it became the second time in my life that I asked for a job wearing clothes I had slept in, and got it.