It's that time of year again--live cut Christmas tree schlepping time. I love being outside, even in the cold, even in the claustrophobically little toothpick & saran wrap hut--I swear it keeps getting smaller!
I don't even mind sweeping the bajillions of pine needles, the pine sap on my gloves & coat, or smelling like Pine Sol at the end of a shift.
What I mind are the people who are even weirder about my being out there. The comments about the cold--today was NOT cold people! COLD is when you can see your breath. Today was sunny and mostly chilly.
What irritates me are the people who come in and say, "We'd like to get a tree. Do we need to bring it in here?" and after I offer them the lovely trimming of the lower branches, taking a nip off the trunk and putting it thru the binder to make it easier to schlep home, they ask again, "So, do I need to bring it in here?" It's like buying a live Christmas tree is brain surgery.
Today's special nitwits were the woman who stood and watched me sweep up the second round of bajillion pine needs, huffed at me, then started to walk off. I'm glad she huffed because I didn't know she was there. I asked if I could help her, and she said, "I need to buy this," disgustedly. She was holding a tree stand. I told her I could do that, and she acted all pissed off. There's a reason I hate people.
The most important man in the world was in today also. He wanted me to follow him around while he figured out how much the trees cost (which he asked me, then repeated everything I'd just read off the sign). He finally chose a tree, then came to me (no, I was not following him around--if he needs an audience, he needs to get his own) and asked if he needed to bring it in. I, of course, went thru the "we can... blah blah blah" bit, so he could ask again, "Do I need to bring the tree in to you to pay?" I got to tell him only if he needed any of that stuff done for him. He dragged the tree in, and couldn't seem to make up his mind if he could trust me to handle the tree, or if he should keep his hands on it. He knows I can't be trusted.
As I trim off the branches at the bottom, he says, "I think it'd be better if I did that." He seriously thought I'd let him trim that tree, right then, right there.
Dude needs behavior therapy, not a chainsaw.
Really? You think I'll just randomly let you have a chainsaw?
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