The Choices We Make

Chpt. 8: Cannibals and Organ Vomit

"So I guess you've got the hang of it now, huh?"

...

"...Do you have the hang of it?"

...

"Hello? Earth to Dreadlocks?"

Jackson gives me a look when I don't respond for the fifth time this hour. I don't even look at him and continue shelve the records. My God it feels like I've been doing this for years.

"Are you ignoring me, Alexis?" Jackson asks. He's kneeling down like I am, leaning closer to me. I focus on the shelf and ignore the light electric blue eyes scrutinizing me. Then he brings out that accursed nonexistent clipboard. "Ooh. Ignoring is not very friendly. I hope you don treat the customers that way, Alexis. I'm afraid that costed you another five points." He says with false sympathy.

I am not going to let that stupid little clipboard be the death of my job here.

What clipboard? There's nothing there!!

I finish up the last few records in the box I'm on.

"Ok. Lets go talk to some customers." Jackson suggests. I stand up silently and walk out into the store with him. I can feel his eyes on me. "Are you really g-"

"Hi there. Are you finding everything alright?" I politely ask a young woman with orange wavy locks and long eyelashes, at an attempt to shut Jackson up.

"Um, actually no. I've been looking for this Mumford and Sons album for ages and I can't seem to find it anywhere." She explains. Oh fudge wads. She wasn't supposed to actually need help. This lady is probably better off just trying to find it herself.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure they're right over here." I say, taking a wild guess. I wonder aimlessly through the store like a lost child, not even sure what 'here' I was referring to myself. If I'm going to pull this off, I atleast have to appear to look like I have some clue what I'm doing right now. Maybe I should've kept my mouth shut earlier...

Jackson and the red head follow close behind me as I take them to where the record supposedly is. I leaf through a couple of albums in a random rectangular stand. Thank you God! I somehow wandered myself right into the 'M' section. This was going to be like taking candy from a baby.

"And what's the name of the album?" I question. I give Jackson a prideful look, hoping to wipe the smugness off his face once I complete this sale.

"Babel."

I leaf through all the album titles that start with B but can't seem to find Babel anywhere. Now that I think about it, I can't seem to find Mumford and Sons anywhere. These stupid records were terribly organized! This is going to be like taking cookies from an overweight child. A ton of records that were supposed to be in the 'N' section where jumbled into the 'M' section. I don't even think I've seen a single M-

"You're in the 'N' section, Doll Face." A husky voice whispers in my ear, almost sending me flying out of my skin. I can tell he's right behind me. Once I freeze in place like a complete idiot for over five seconds, Jackson reaches over my shoulder and pulls up the exact record the lady was looking for.

There was no way I'm going to get this job. I needed another lesson in shelving... And while I'm at it I should probably head back to Kindergarten and learn the difference between M and N.

"Here you go, Ms." Jackson says politely. Who knew Jackson's vocal cords contained the capability of sounding even remotely friendly? The lady grins a toothy grin.

"Thanks so much, both of you. You guys are such a lovely couple, by the way." She comments with endearment. My ears start to burn. Oh God. I'm gonna puke out my organs.