Squeeching.

Sooo. Sometimes the thrift store gets perfumes. Or purfumey things. And, never knowing what I will react to, it's a good idea for them to NOT be sprayed around me. We USED to keep them behind the counter. But then you'd get the woman who wants to sniff every single one, while there's a line up.

So, Boss Lady made a sign. And then I made another:

I hoped that the RED warning, with the drawn yellow warning liney signs would make people understand. ASTHMATIC on staff. PLEASE DO NOT SPRAY PERFUMES!!

But there's always that ONE. She'll be old, stubborn, and give me the whole "how do you expect me to smell it to see if I like it?" My response is "smell the cap."

We sell the fuckers for no more than $1 for the cheapie ones, and $5ish for brand named ones that come in.

But she'll spray it anyway when she thinks I'm not looking. As if I'm not going to NOTICE. And the stink invades the whole store, and I start choking. Sometimes I AM a little more dramatic than I need to be - What, with the doubling over and red faced gasping coughs while I hang onto the counter for dear life, and the loud squeeching use of the inhalers. (Squeeching. I just made that up. It's mine. It's like squealing, but backwards, because you are trying to breath IN.)

It freaks peoples shit out. But I totally do it. Because even though mostly I am SO. FUCKING. CUSTOMER. SERVICE. AWESOME.... Sometimes there's just no other way to SAY a thing to stubborn ladies who want to smell ALL THE FUCKING PERFUMES at once.

And yet. There's a boy I've been spending time with who wears a very distinct cologne, and I seem to be JUST FINE with getting my nose all up in that without wheezing even a little.


Grace.