| Reign of the Manager
Erin�s cool glance rushes like hurried feet over the faces in the store. Sponge Bob and Jimmy Neutron cower, fearing the wrath of her boredom. Dora the Explorer dives from the hands of a little girl to the dust filled corners, begging not to be reshelved. Sitting on her disheveled cardboard throne, Erin�s honeyed hair graced by her sunglasses tiara, Her Highness� gaze settles on me like a pair of concrete shoes to the bottom of a river. To her I am nothing but the help, rushing about like an expendable robot with broom in hand, tackling the mess that foams like pickle-flavored ooze in the wake of her overbearing presence. Her faults are hidden by my beguiling morning glory smiles that fade with the return of her shadow. I slowly simmer to death under palm leaf green cover as she basks in the breeze of air conditioning. The queen sits in her storeroom castle as I slave in the fields of customer service dancing to the sound of the cash register drum. |