Last night at the store, Poli Sci Guy told me that I should do stand-up comedy after he heard me tell a customer that the reason I worked for Barnes & Noble was because it was run by Teamsters to whom I owed a debt.
(All the customer had said to me was "Gosh, this must be a great place to work.")
I told the customer that, a long time ago, I'd written a dozen bad checks in a month, when I wanted a complete collection of Dickens' works that I bought one volume at a time, and that the Teamsters who ran the store initially went after my left knee with a lead pipe. ("That's why I walk like this," I told the customer.)
Now, I told her, I'm just there trying to pay down my debt to them.
"I know where Hoffa is - and he's watching us," I said to her.
Harrison, a former manager who's now retreating our store for Borders, heard me tell the story and looked all puzzled at Poli Sci Guy.
Then, Harrison said about me, "Oh well, he's not my responsibility anymore."
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