Click Here to Read The Longer-Than-Necessary Prelude to the Story of the Midget Who Accosted Me At the Mall
(Unless you've already read it, then nevermind.)
(Unless you've already read it, then nevermind.)
I stood there, my hand still holding the door open, knowing that no good could come of this. The Useless Hallway was empty, as usual, and i stepped inside, bracing myself for another round of fake smiles and enthusiasm in hopes of landing employment.
Once i felt sufficiently braced, and i made the decision to walk into the Den of Corporate Evil, i was momentarily distracted by the opening of a door i hadn't noticed before. It was a normal, innocuous looking white door that blended very well with the rest of the white wall; it was no wonder i hadn't noticed it.
The person who opened the door, on the other hand, was not normal or innocuous at all. It was a midget with the worst duck's ass hair do i'd ever seen in my life! In case you don't know what duck's ass hair looks like, let me provide you with a visual:
This guy's hair was greasier, and had an obnoxious little tail dangling from the bottom in a spiral. The whole thing was really just a particularly clever, but completely ineffective comb-over. Or maybe it was effective. After all, i was completely absorbed by the hideousness of the remaining hair, which distracted me from the bald spot it was designed to hide.
He turned to look at me, and his face lit up like the Marshall Fields Christmas tree. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt that was opened up down to his hairy navel, displaying some gold chains that were busy tangling themselves up in a very fine chest-lawn. He smiled a wide smile at me. . . and it was the icing on the cupcake that was this little man. His mouth was full of yellowish brown teeth that jutted out at the most unimaginable angles, with one single, solitary straight tooth encased in gold.
He was generously ignoring what i can only imagine was a cross between a horrified and fascinated look on my face.
"Hello, my friend!" he greeted me, "Would you be interested in taking a market survey?"
I took a minute to marshal my expression and smile back at him. I mean, i know staring is impolite and all, but this guy HAD to be used to it. He was dealing with my unintentional rudeness like a pro. I took another minute to realize he'd asked me a question, and was patiently waiting for an answer. Yup, this guy was definitely used to it.
I told him i didn't have time, as i had to be at work in a few hours, and was here to apply for jobs. He assured me it'd only take about ten minutes of my time, and that i'd get twenty bucks for completing the survey. I had to think about it. I really needed the money, but i really needed a job, too. But what's ten minutes out of my day? And, more importantly, how do you say 'no' to a midget with a duck's ass comb over?!
When you get down to it, the answer is simple: You don't. I followed him through the innocuous door in the Useless Hallway.
We emerged unscathed into a brightly-lit, windowless office. We walked through the office and through another doorway that led into what appeared to be a conference room. There were two other people seated at the long, rectangular table, pencils and forms spread out before them. There was an empty place in front of another pencil and set of forms, and the midget gestured toward the seat. I sat.
At the head of the table was one of those TV-VCR combos, and the midget informed us that he would play a series of commercials for us, and then stop the tape so that we could answer one section of questions. The line of questioning was one of those Which Commercial Was Most Memorable sort of things, and as it turns out, the market survey was being given by Olive Garden.
The midget then put in another tape, and told us to watch a series of Olive Garden commercials and fill out the rest of the questions. From the other office, we heard a door slam, and a high, screeching voice.
"JEROME!! GET YER ASS IN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
A look of irritation crossed Jerome's features and he hit play on the VCR before excusing himself into the next room. One of the guys i was left in the room looked at me with barely suppressed mirth.
"Jerome??" he said, incredulity and snickers escaping his clenched teeth.
"Yeah, i had him pegged for a Leeroy or something," the other guy chortled. It made me wonder if there was even an appropriate name available for a duck's ass combover-wearing midget.
From the next room, angry murmurs escalated into muffled shouting. The muffled shouting rapidly evolved into full-fledged shouting; the midget and the unseen woman were having it out in the next room. I felt a pang of sympathy for Jerome, being harangued almost-publicly by this harpy-voiced woman. I wouldn't even want to be harangued privately by a voice like that.
The tape ended, and i supplied answers to questions i couldn't even focus on, not that it would have mattered since i didn't hear a word of the commercials anyway. It's hard enough to resist the urge to flip away from a commercial on a normal day; when there's a shouting-death-match happening between Jerome the Midget and Harpy Voice next door. . . well. You understand.
As the battle raged on, the three of us sat there looking uncomfortably at one another.
"Should we interrupt them?" the Snickering Man asked. The Chortling Man coughed one of those fake attention-getting coughs as Jerome re-entered the room, smiling as though nothing at all were wrong. He collected our questionnaires, collected our names, and then handed out twenty dollar bills to us. We began to shuffle out of the office.
I felt something tug on the sleeve of my shirt, and i turned around to see Jerome standing there, watching the other two guys leave. As soon as they were out of sight, he slipped an envelope into my hand, winked at me, and turned me loose. I strode out of the office, glancing over at Harpy Voice, who looked exactly like she sounded. I smiled wanly at her and she scowled at me in return. I tried to bolt for the door without looking like i was trying to bolt for the door.
Once i was safely back out in the real world, i decided not to go applying for jobs in that mall after all. I exited the mall through the door i entered, suppressing an irrational fear that i wouldn't be able to find my car. Remembering the envelope, i opened it up and found $75 worth of Olive Garden gift cards inside. I recalled my earlier feeling that no good could come of my visit here today, and was happy, for a change, to be wrong.
He turned to look at me, and his face lit up like the Marshall Fields Christmas tree. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt that was opened up down to his hairy navel, displaying some gold chains that were busy tangling themselves up in a very fine chest-lawn. He smiled a wide smile at me. . . and it was the icing on the cupcake that was this little man. His mouth was full of yellowish brown teeth that jutted out at the most unimaginable angles, with one single, solitary straight tooth encased in gold.
He was generously ignoring what i can only imagine was a cross between a horrified and fascinated look on my face.
"Hello, my friend!" he greeted me, "Would you be interested in taking a market survey?"
I took a minute to marshal my expression and smile back at him. I mean, i know staring is impolite and all, but this guy HAD to be used to it. He was dealing with my unintentional rudeness like a pro. I took another minute to realize he'd asked me a question, and was patiently waiting for an answer. Yup, this guy was definitely used to it.
I told him i didn't have time, as i had to be at work in a few hours, and was here to apply for jobs. He assured me it'd only take about ten minutes of my time, and that i'd get twenty bucks for completing the survey. I had to think about it. I really needed the money, but i really needed a job, too. But what's ten minutes out of my day? And, more importantly, how do you say 'no' to a midget with a duck's ass comb over?!
When you get down to it, the answer is simple: You don't. I followed him through the innocuous door in the Useless Hallway.
We emerged unscathed into a brightly-lit, windowless office. We walked through the office and through another doorway that led into what appeared to be a conference room. There were two other people seated at the long, rectangular table, pencils and forms spread out before them. There was an empty place in front of another pencil and set of forms, and the midget gestured toward the seat. I sat.
At the head of the table was one of those TV-VCR combos, and the midget informed us that he would play a series of commercials for us, and then stop the tape so that we could answer one section of questions. The line of questioning was one of those Which Commercial Was Most Memorable sort of things, and as it turns out, the market survey was being given by Olive Garden.
The midget then put in another tape, and told us to watch a series of Olive Garden commercials and fill out the rest of the questions. From the other office, we heard a door slam, and a high, screeching voice.
"JEROME!! GET YER ASS IN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
A look of irritation crossed Jerome's features and he hit play on the VCR before excusing himself into the next room. One of the guys i was left in the room looked at me with barely suppressed mirth.
"Jerome??" he said, incredulity and snickers escaping his clenched teeth.
"Yeah, i had him pegged for a Leeroy or something," the other guy chortled. It made me wonder if there was even an appropriate name available for a duck's ass combover-wearing midget.
From the next room, angry murmurs escalated into muffled shouting. The muffled shouting rapidly evolved into full-fledged shouting; the midget and the unseen woman were having it out in the next room. I felt a pang of sympathy for Jerome, being harangued almost-publicly by this harpy-voiced woman. I wouldn't even want to be harangued privately by a voice like that.
The tape ended, and i supplied answers to questions i couldn't even focus on, not that it would have mattered since i didn't hear a word of the commercials anyway. It's hard enough to resist the urge to flip away from a commercial on a normal day; when there's a shouting-death-match happening between Jerome the Midget and Harpy Voice next door. . . well. You understand.
As the battle raged on, the three of us sat there looking uncomfortably at one another.
"Should we interrupt them?" the Snickering Man asked. The Chortling Man coughed one of those fake attention-getting coughs as Jerome re-entered the room, smiling as though nothing at all were wrong. He collected our questionnaires, collected our names, and then handed out twenty dollar bills to us. We began to shuffle out of the office.
I felt something tug on the sleeve of my shirt, and i turned around to see Jerome standing there, watching the other two guys leave. As soon as they were out of sight, he slipped an envelope into my hand, winked at me, and turned me loose. I strode out of the office, glancing over at Harpy Voice, who looked exactly like she sounded. I smiled wanly at her and she scowled at me in return. I tried to bolt for the door without looking like i was trying to bolt for the door.
Once i was safely back out in the real world, i decided not to go applying for jobs in that mall after all. I exited the mall through the door i entered, suppressing an irrational fear that i wouldn't be able to find my car. Remembering the envelope, i opened it up and found $75 worth of Olive Garden gift cards inside. I recalled my earlier feeling that no good could come of my visit here today, and was happy, for a change, to be wrong.
1 comment:
This sounds like one of those focus groups. My boyfriend went to one recently and got $75 for sitting there talking about Boy Scout fundraising popcorn for 45 minutes.
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