Hannah J. Flynn (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} hannah_flynn) wrote,@ 2009-01-19 23:21:00 |
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There's Something About Carrie
Captain's Log: January 19, 2014
Dear Journal,
Something I've learned about Carrie that she failed to say during our transition training: The girl liked her customers and their cash. A lot. Some might say too much, and I tell ya, they wouldn't be out of line, either! You might ask yourself how I came across this juicy tidbit. Well, don't you worry, I plan to spill these refried beans and throw some sour cream on top for tasty measure.
There's a customer named Dale who comes in around dinnertime, parks himself in a booth by the restrooms (eww?), and refuses to order from anybody without a nametag that says 'Carrie'. When Lorraine jabbed me with a pencil and said, "Look, it's your biggest fan," I remember thinking, 'how sweet!' in that stupid way I get sometimes when I can see neither the forest nor the trees, just some green blobby stuff that could be leaves or possibly a snot monster.
I picked up my pad, wandered over and asked him what he'd like to order. Mistake number 1! He said, "The usual." While I scribbled a dumbfounded smiley on my pad and mmm-hmm'd to stall for time, a most curious thing happened. Dale put his hand around my thigh and started kneading it like a ball of dough he planned to make biscuits from. Somehow I managed not to shove my pencil up his nostril, but I think he noticed the indignation on my face and the not-so-subtle yanking back of my leg. That glamour the PTBs cast to keep folks from noticing I'm not Carrie doesn't cover facial expressions or recoiling.
Suffice it to say, my tip was jukebox change.
Moving on. I could've excused this incident as maybe Dale was a pervert, if it weren't for Mr. Pancakes w/ Ketchup later scribbling a suggestive comment on a napkin beside my merchant receipt. It did indeed include the phrase, 'How's 11pm??' A couple hours later, when I got off work and started the walk to Carrie's apartment, he was outside the Golden Nugget, sitting in his car near the dumpsters even though there was plenty of parking up front, and when I walked by he started combing his hair.
Go on. Say it. Tell me what you're thinking! I'm a big girl.
On account of how paper can't talk back, allow me to fill in the blanks with 3 possibilities:
Gross taste in boyfriends?
Loney = Easy?
Hooker?!</u>
Well, that last one just takes the cake.
If that is the case, and I'm supposed to "pick up Carrie's life as it stands", then we are gonna have MAJOR problems! I'm pretty sure Part-Time Sex Worker should've been mentioned in the debriefing.
This is Grumpy Hannah, signing off.
Captain's Log: January 19, 2014
Dear Journal,
Something I've learned about Carrie that she failed to say during our transition training: The girl liked her customers and their cash. A lot. Some might say too much, and I tell ya, they wouldn't be out of line, either! You might ask yourself how I came across this juicy tidbit. Well, don't you worry, I plan to spill these refried beans and throw some sour cream on top for tasty measure.
There's a customer named Dale who comes in around dinnertime, parks himself in a booth by the restrooms (eww?), and refuses to order from anybody without a nametag that says 'Carrie'. When Lorraine jabbed me with a pencil and said, "Look, it's your biggest fan," I remember thinking, 'how sweet!' in that stupid way I get sometimes when I can see neither the forest nor the trees, just some green blobby stuff that could be leaves or possibly a snot monster.
I picked up my pad, wandered over and asked him what he'd like to order. Mistake number 1! He said, "The usual." While I scribbled a dumbfounded smiley on my pad and mmm-hmm'd to stall for time, a most curious thing happened. Dale put his hand around my thigh and started kneading it like a ball of dough he planned to make biscuits from. Somehow I managed not to shove my pencil up his nostril, but I think he noticed the indignation on my face and the not-so-subtle yanking back of my leg. That glamour the PTBs cast to keep folks from noticing I'm not Carrie doesn't cover facial expressions or recoiling.
Suffice it to say, my tip was jukebox change.
Moving on. I could've excused this incident as maybe Dale was a pervert, if it weren't for Mr. Pancakes w/ Ketchup later scribbling a suggestive comment on a napkin beside my merchant receipt. It did indeed include the phrase, 'How's 11pm??' A couple hours later, when I got off work and started the walk to Carrie's apartment, he was outside the Golden Nugget, sitting in his car near the dumpsters even though there was plenty of parking up front, and when I walked by he started combing his hair.
Go on. Say it. Tell me what you're thinking! I'm a big girl.
On account of how paper can't talk back, allow me to fill in the blanks with 3 possibilities:
Gross taste in boyfriends?
Loney = Easy?
Hooker?!</u>
Well, that last one just takes the cake.
If that is the case, and I'm supposed to "pick up Carrie's life as it stands", then we are gonna have MAJOR problems! I'm pretty sure Part-Time Sex Worker should've been mentioned in the debriefing.
This is Grumpy Hannah, signing off.