Unenthused existential shop manager

A customer complained about my snobby demeanor and demeaning haughty looks, according to a co-worker. The complaint was made last night and unfortunately I was not there to witness her anguish.

This is not new to me, and I do not feel sorry, only bemused. I suppose what she interpreted as antagonistic expression was merely a default poker face usually worn during disinterested times.

If I had the luxury of an acerbic reproach, I would have begged her not to give herself too much credit. Other than never seriously demeaning anyone, save for comic relief, I never give that ‘dagger looks’ look.

But then, she doesn’t have to know that my enthusiasm is as dry as the arid soils of Africa, and my previous superiors and employers can attest to that. Also, she doesn’t have to know that my idea of genuineness excludes staged graciousness. It is disinterest in times of disinterest, the rest are all pleasant, at least to me.

Like all other attention-starved emotional shopper, she was probably longing for the nauseating sugar loaded attention a shop manager could afford her. She was probably hoping for me to jump at her and offer anything that could establish our equality in the world of fashion.

Well, I don’t live in the world of fashion, my existentialism is swinging between the real world and a parallel universe.