As that theory bounced around in my head, I searched every last logical place to find disposable pans. I just needed something to put Thanksgiving morning breakfast in. I just needed those flimsy, throw away pans. Finally, I spotted a blue-shirt and flagged that woman down.
She kind of sighed, which I thought was catty, and said, "Well, I think you can find them by the dairy and you can find them by the deep freeze and I'm sure there are some in housewares." Then she sighed again. Geez. I know this is a suckish time to be in retail, but really? Sighing? I conceded that I would probably be doing the exact same thing if roles were reversed. I thanked her and wandered over to the "deep freeze," which proved to have no disposable pans.
The Blue Shirt was there, leaning into a deep freeze. "Didn't find any?" she asked.
"Nope. I guess I'll wander over to housewares." I answered, sharing a half-smile with her.
"I'm looking for whipped cream," she said with another of her now-regular sighs.
Really?
"Well," I offered, "It's usually back with the dairy or up with the pie crusts," then I giggled as I added, "but I don't know that for sure since I don't work here."
"Oh," she gushed, "Neither do I. And I damn sure won't wear a blue shirt here anymore."
I hope, for her sake, she wears plaid if she goes out on Black Friday.
