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For some reason I'm thinking about the Sunglass People tonight. I mentally named them that. They were customers that came into the vitamin store I was working at back in '01. All I know is, I was minding my own business, when this big fat motorcycle pulls up and this couple, all leatherbound and wearing dark sunglasses walked into the store. It was hillarious. Because for one thing, they looked like they were in their late 40's, which is fine, but the problem was mainly with the woman. She was really tall, really fake blonde, really busty and really tan. Every bit of her was somehow squeezed and squished up into this black leather getup she had on, including really high, spike-heeled black boots. And it wasn't even a weekend.

The store I worked at was right by Addison, a small city filled to the brim with middle-aged Harley riders. It's a real phenomenon. Anyway the man didn't phase me at all, but the woman.... this is why she was hillarious. This is what she did. I was running the store alone, so it was all me, of course. I always had to handle the freaks alone. They entered into the store, the man went about his business and started looking around, but the woman... she (sunglasses still on, I couldn't see her eyes) strolls on over to me, and she didn't stop, she walked right up until I thought her chest was going to bump into my head. (I'm 5"3.)

So imagine, this tall woman who thinks she's the Terminator or something, not saying a word, not even a smile, just slowly approached me as if she was going to grab me by the throat. But no. You see, my Freak Tolerance Level was already at record levels due to working at that place, so I didn't put up with anything. I just stood there as she walked towards me. I know enough about body language to know, the normal thing for me to do at that point was to take a few steps back. I think that's what she was going for. But little did she know, when you're on my turf, I win, no matter how short I am.

So I stood there, until she was right up in my face, looking down on me, just inches from me, hovering, not unlike a cobra staring down a chicken with a broken wing. I looked at her and she looked at me. I started laughing. She continued to stare at me. Finally (without moving back) I said, What can I help you with?

She just stood there in silence, staring at me. Finally she spoke. She remained in the same place, hardly moving, and said, It looks like you have a good selection here. I thought to myself, where's the hidden camera? Is this a joke? I laughed and started telling her all about our best products, BUT! I didn't look at her face when I did. I looked off to the side, knowing it was bugging her. It was my plot to get her to take off her shades. It worked. After a few minutes, she took a few steps backwards and removed her shades. Turned out it was a real live woman under there! Not only that, but she started asking me questions and we actually ended up having a pleasant conversation. They were in town for some concert. I guess they just needed to make a quick pit-stop to intimidate a hapless local.

My point is, after working retail since the age of 18, I have zero tolerance for people who wear shades in the store. Dark ones, that is. The kind that completely hide the eyes. And they come in and expect me to look them in the eye. I refuse. The bottom line: If I can't see you, you won't see me. I look off to the side, invent some imaginary focal point, until it drives them nuts and they take them off.

I'm small, but I deserve the same amount of equality and respect as anyone else. At least the people who wear dark glasses in the store aren't as bad as the Woman Who Carried Her Poop Around In A Pickle Jar. But that's another blog.

And she went around showing it to people! I'm not kidding.