Today I sold shoes to an alien and she gave me her business card...
I always get weird customers and I always get their life stories. I think I give off some pheromone that attracts the crazies because no one else at my work has to deal with this crap. My boss says I'm too patient with customers and too willing to listen to them. She's probably right.
This week alone I have received two business cards from Jehovah's witnesses, additionally I had a rather friendly man who told me he was an actor and asked if I recognized him. I said no and he gave me his business card. Later research on my part showed he was a pedestrian in an obscure regional soap opera. Big time actor clearly.
I've decided I'm going to collect a little rollodex of all the business cards I accumulate. Anyway, off topic.
This latest lady really tickled my biscuit. She was about fifty and was looking for a pair of sandals. It's winter in Scotland so that's my first clue that this woman has some squeaky hinges.
She's friendly. She accumulates a little pile of gaudy toe posts that I just know she's not going to put back. We get talking. 931
You know the usual, how is the weather outside and did you know the government puts wire meshes into people and I've already lost two friends this year to this remarkably wicked injustice. I keep a straight face. Somehow.
I'm ringing her up and she asks me if I believe in aliens. I watched the <PERSON> documentary so I muse that its possible. She sees an opportunity and I see the next twenty minutes of my life being sucked away.
She tells me she's an alien from a planet behind the sun and she was taught to fly spaceships at three years old. She also runs an animal sanctuary in her house and has fifty bats. She brings out her phone and my boss and colleagues watch me try to keep a straight face but they can't quite hear what nonsense she's spouting.
She shows me a photo. At first I think it's one of her fabled bats. It's a dark shadowy blob. I comment that it's a big looking bat and she tells me no, that's my true form.
Then she shows me a picture of the badger she feeds in her garden. Her granddaughter is an alien too, she says, and regularly tells her completely sane granny that "they don't belong on this planet." I'm inclined to agree.
She gives me her business card and tells me the truths all going to come out soon.
So I guess this is a heads up. Aliens are here and unfortunately we're going to have to serve them. I'd prefer to be zapped into another dimension or turned into meat slurry personally, but at least I'll still be getting minimum wage when the toddlers start landing in saucers. 329