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I realized something tonight. The cashier who works at my local 711 knows all my secrets. We don't know each others names, we've never even had a conversation, yet he knows me almost intimately, in a way not even my closest friends do. He's seen me in every possible state I could be seen in. He's seen me all dressed up and ready for a night on the town. He's seen me in the morning, un-showered and without makeup, when I'm out of milk. He's seen me in my worst mood, in the most emotionally fragile state I could ever be in, and in my most excited and bubbly mood. He's seen every change in hair colour and hair style, and he's just about the only person who'll ever see me sneakily buy a bag of chips, a diet coke, and a
People magazine. And yet, he doesn't judge. No matter what my physical or emotional state, he always smiles and says "hello, dear" when I come in and "have a good day/night" when I leave. And he never makes me feel self conscious about whatever I put down on the counter. The 711 guy is my secret keeper.
That is such a sweet post and I totally get what you mean. We have a little shop next to us where Balazs and I go all the time and there is a lady there who pretty much knows eveyrthing about us. Its so funny...Happy Sunday,sweetie
ReplyDeleteKisses
Great post. I like the idea of having a secret keeper.
ReplyDeleteThe same thing would happen with me at the bodega near my former job. Every day I would order pineapple with two packets of salt. Then I would walk in and they would say "we know, pineapple with salt." It was like a Seinfeld episode!
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