“You know what I’d like to see? I’d like to see you sweep this floor.” That’s Vicky. “You know what? I’d like to see me sweep this floor too.” We banter non-stop in the store. “I need to you dust around all the vents. You just extend this thing like this, and then when just when you think it can’t get any bigger…” I give Vicky a smart-alecky smirk while she’s talking. “You know what I mean!” she laughs.
During the lunch rush, drivers carry on with innuendo and defiant shouting non-stop. It’s normal to hear, “Welcome to Jimmy’s,” and “Hell no! You get them damn chips down yourself!” in the same breath. Conversation can be colorful enough to make a sailor blush, but usually it’s a hairbreadth shy of offensive. Some customers walk in, pick up on the conversation and give a cautious grin. Most appreciate the irreverence, opening up and joining right in. Only a few clam up, stand quietly and wait for it to end.
The perfunctory fake niceness found in most retail environments is nowhere to be found at our store. Today, Jacob greeted a nice looking lady with, “Hey, welcome to Jason’s Deli!” (Not our store.) She failed to contain a grin. While she was still paying he called to the next guest, “Hey, welcome to Jarell Cooper’s!” (A famously lazy delivery driver at the store.) The man looked confused, then grinned.
On Saturday a customer asked for the Italian Nightclub, no pickles. He just laughed when Vicky called out, “Number 9, extra pickles,” in a perfect, bored deadpan. And that’s rare. It is a rare workplace where the fun is so infectious.