tips in the shoppe have been a little lower than norm in the past month or so. i blame it on summer break -- we have no after school rush. it's great to be mostly kid-free, but it also slows down the tip jar. i have recently come up with a master plan; a double attack strategy to coax out the dollars (or cents. i'll take cents. they add up.)
step one - cut a hole in a box. oh wait. no not that plan. step one - maximum cleavage. before i leave the house, i do the bend check. since i do a lot of leaning over and bending in the shop, i try to make sure that you can't see my belly button through my neckline when i do so. anything else goes. i also try and factor in other people's height, so it doesn't get too scandalous for the work place, but that's kind of difficult seeing as 86%* of the world is taller than i.
step two - flirt city. i used to think that i never flirted with anybody. then one day i realized that it was kind of more like i flirted with everybody. so, to a certain extent, i use this in Operation Tip Jar. and by "to a certain extent" i mean "mainly with hot people". not that i think hot people will tip me more, i just hate writing checks i'd rather not cash ifyouknowwhatimean. and also, i have a tendency to pick up stalkers just by being friendly. who knows what trouble i could get myself into†.
anyway, on that rather superficial note-- a short anecdote from the day's cookie hustle:
i received a call at the shoppe, and answered with my standard greeting, "Ye Olde Shoppe, this is Sara"^. the voice on the other end said "Hi, Sara", proceeded to ask me to put aside some whoopie pies under the name Keri, and said that she'd be by in about 20 minutes to pick them up. I put the cookies aside for her and then kind of forgot about it. I started in on my closing duties, occasionally interrupted by a customer or two, but nobody i could be super friendly with because i'm getting only older or underaged, gay and/or married. as i'm finishing up with a man and his two (not underaged, but probably not old enough) kids, the front entrance bell rings. i quickly glance over, notice what seems to be a very pretty lady, and then turn back to the man. as i'm saying my standard "thanks" and "have a good one", my brain is like 'umm...pretty sure that pretty lady is keri russell'. so then i turn to the lady that just entered, and it is indeed her. she says "hi, i'm keri." and my mind says "i know this, but why are you telling me?" she then proceeds to say that she called a little while ago about the whoopie pies. oh! it all comes together.
anyway, the whole point of this story is that now i can totally tell everyone that i've had a phone conversation with keri russell.
†this implies that no hot people are stalkers. i like to believe this is true, even though i know from experience that it isn't
^may vary slightly from my standard greeting