Operation: Success!

WARNING: the post that follows is so girly I made myself sick. It rambles; it doesn't always get to a point; and there are WAY too many parenthetical asides and comma splices. So, if you're not in the mood to read the whole darn thing (for which I can't blame anyone--I probably wouldn't read it if I hadn't written it) here's a recap: my cheer-up present went very well. Paulo was very appreciative and seemed genuinely touched. We had a good night of laughing and joking. There was a lot of flirting and I think the other full timer was suspect to it but oh well. He's a nice guy and if nothing else hopefully we can be friends.



Mission accomplished, friends.

And might I mention, I am NOT a smooth operator. Not at all. Not in one slight bit.

First off, on the Tigers Jersey where I placed his name, how about I misspelled it! I'm an idiot. He, however, (I'm jumping the gun, I know) didn't mention it--what a nice guy. I didn't notice until a couple of hours after he left and I was looking at my work schedule for today that his last name is with an E not an A. I was sufficiently embarrassed--so I wrote him a note and put it in his box that I would submit a new one ASAP. I had to call the store this morning because I think I left my wallet there last night and he answered the phone--so I apologized for the misspelling and he just laughed and said he was glad a new one was coming--just because that was his favorite part! So, this time I let him choose what number jersey he's going to wear, so it's number 05.

But I've gotten way ahead of myself. I walked in at 530 and he was in the front office (that's where the timeclock is and my order book, etc.)--the front "office" is really just a walled-off, open air corral that has swinging doors like old-time saloons--and he was there. He asked how I was, (fine), and then just looked back down at the computer. So I have two thoughts: do I just bring it up now? And how do I get the stuff I made for him in his cubbie, that he's standing in front of, without him noticing? So, I go ahead and ask if he's ok--that he doesn't seem like himself. He was quite credulous and stated that I'd only been there like 30 seconds--I reminded him I was in earlier in the day and he responded that I'm the second person to ask him that. (My friend the cashier that he was rude to said something to him about it.) So, he responded that everything was fine, that he had fallen asleep on the couch the night before and had slept for a long time (like 10 hours) and they were poor, couch-ridden hours. And he said something about, "You know how sometimes you just wake up and don't feel yourself? You just want to be quiet? I guess that's how today is for me." I do know, Paulo, I sure do. And anytime I'm in such a mood people think I'm pissed at them too--so I get it. We started to laugh and he said he'd work on it. He certainly doesn't want people to think he's mad. And then he said something that caused me to laugh, out loud, while I was trying to get to sleep at like 2 this morning: that when you're tall, you've got a dark complexion, you're bald, "and you're built, I mean, I don't mean to sound arrogant, I mean, when you're chiseled--wait, that sounds even worse, ok, how about this? when you're not DAINTY, people just think you're pissed when indeed you're just quiet."

He used the word chiseled. Perfect. I love it. And later in the night we were joking about it and I got him so flustered that he answered the phone and he transposed one of the words in our company name with the word chiseled. LOVE IT.

Back to the beginning of the night: I made my way into the office to get my order guide, he was still in front of his cubbie--but finally he moved, so I slipped it into his box and gingerly left the office to write my order. 20 minutes later I came back to input my order into our ordering system, and THAT's when he decided to check his box. I hear him opening an envelope and I'm kind of mortified. This was not a "cheer you up while I watch" kind of present. It's a sneaky "get it while you're alone so you can ponder at how thoughtful I am (and witty, and kind, and good at my job, and funny, and charming, and the person you want to spend more time with) and you can have a moment to smile and be cheered.

Thankfully I was at the very end of my order right as he got the envelope open, I hurriedly hit save and practically sprinted out of the office. I went to the back of the store and was pretty much totally embarrassed--it was EXACTLY like the time in 7th grade when I had written Bryan Digby a love note and was passing it in class and Mrs. Duck(somethingorother) intercepted it AND READ IT OUT LOUD. TO THE CLASS. SHE THEN WROTE IT ON THE OVERHEAD PROJECTOR. AND INVITED EVERYONE TO DIAGRAM MY SENTENCES. I am NOT even exaggerating, or kidding, or using any of my comedic writing devices. I even have tears in my eyes right this moment remembering what a horrible life-altering moment that was. And now I'm laughing because I'm crying and my right-hand Mike here at work just asked over the cube wall "Are you ok?"

Right, so I was at that giddy, frenetic "oh my gosh I can't believe I did that" kind of stage--I went back to our sample counter, told the guy back there (the aforementioned cashier that had told Paulo that he was concerned at his apparent bad day) and this other sample lady whom I LOVE and think she's amazing and she already knows of the Paulo Saga. They laughed (of course) and I start stocking shelves with a passion and a madness I've never experienced before. I also told them that I don't really care how he takes it or how I look. The both of them are 50+ and they look at my antics as being very youthful and whimsical. And they're probably right--because I DO have ulterior motives. They pointed out that neither of THEM had ever gotten Cheer Up packets from me and they're right. So that's something I'm planning on working on. I need to be more generous with my whimsical love--that I don't need to hoard it for times when I think it might accomplish a specific goal. But as I told them, even if he takes it poorly, it doesn't matter. Compassion is something I want to share with others when I think they're hurting. I won't stop showing concern just because I'm intimidated about how the other person perceives me. So that felt good--I felt like I had done the right thing and I wasn't really concerned about the spirit in which he received his present.

I look over my shoulder and Paulo is headed straight for me--and then I was intercepted by a lady asking for something clear on the other side of the store. We escort our customers to whatever product they're trying to find , so I had to walk away. I then went to open a register when we got busy and he came over and gave me a hug, in front of customers waiting for me to check them out, and said thank you--that it was extremely thoughtful. My answer, of course, was something totally passive so as to mask my true intentions: "Hey, I'm just here to make sure you're ok." Instead of, "Hey, aren't I a good find?" So he definitely skipped (yes, this grown 31-year-old, 6 foot 2 inch man who is self-admittedly chiseled, skipped) away. We then had a lovely rapport the rest of the evening--talked about why I was wearing a crown (an AIDS education fundraiser where men dressed as women were presented as debutantes and the one that raised the most money was crowned queen and that was last year's queen's crown)--and bonus he didn't just blow off the crossdressing event (as most straight men that I've encountered do)--he said that's awesome that all that money was raised for such a good cause. Maybe I can get him to join me at this year's ball! Of course I'm sure he'll pay the premium ticket to wear a tux instead of a dress...but who knows? I could have him pegged completely wrong. ;)

I also kept the Elton John CD a mystery because I just labeled the CD "A Visionary Before His Time: Greatest Hits LIVE"--so he was looking forward to listening to it on the way home. It was just an all-around good time had by all. He was very curious how I got his name on the back of a Tigers jersey. First off, I didn't tell the whole truth. LR is the one that actually did it because I was so busy getting everything else together before 5 pm. And then I realized this morning, you can totally personalize any MLB jersey and preview it on MLB.com. So that's what I did this morning to spell his name correctly (which I'm just impressed that he didn't say anything about: gentleman. And I like that (this is to be said in your, well, my best Southern accent a là Gone With The Wind).) I, OF COURSE, shall not be divulging this little secret to him today when I take him the new jersey printout. It's our little secret ok?

Observations: I was at my register and I caught him staring. Several times. He laughed at jokes I made with customers, not him. He found reasons to need to be in the aisle that I was working on. After the store closed he stocked my cereal (what a innuendo-filled phrase if I've ever heard one ;) and then complimented me several times on writing such a tight order (I don't have a lot of back stock--I order just what I need and it generally goes straight from the truck to the shelf--which is good.). I however had mis-ordered a children's cereal--I needed the OTHER one with honey and accidentally ordered one that had a completely full shelf. He was placing it back on his hand cart right as I walked by, and as I hate "go backs"--what we in the grocery biz call things that can't fit on the shelf and need to go back to the back room, I wailed "OOHHHH NOOOO!" and he laughed and stated that I'm the most passionate person he's ever encountered regarding cereal--and the way he said, "This does not look like an Anna order" when talking about having to take something to the back warmed my heart. I like being recognized for a job well done and having someone (it doesn't matter that it was Paulo or not) be proud of the work I do was a nice feeling.

Cut to 10:15 pm. The store had been closed for over an hour and Paulo should have been leaving soon. Well, we had some big-wig (whig?) visitors from "corporate" coming into the store today--so I volunteered to clean the break room and bathrooms because I don't mind cleaning and I do a pretty decent job. The other full-timer had put the satellite Muzak on some weird "experimental" music station, so I had gotten out my iPod and fired it up as I was cleaning and washing dishes. I barely heard my name being shouted down the hallway...then Paulo came in, looking like he was ready to go, but he just came by to say thank you again and then (get ready for it)--we hugged. Like, a real hug. Like, the kind of hugs I have grown to love and expect from the Lumberjacks that I love. Like, for an extended period of time. I had wet, soapy hands and one earbud still in my ear with loud music coming out of it...

It was a nice moment.

I just went over to TJ's during my lunch hour. (after I got a call from my apartment complex saying they hadn't gotten my rent check--that I turned in on Monday! But the lady was super-de-duper nice about it, believed me when I said I had turned it in in the right place, etc and she just let me come right over to get her another check. I had to do a stop payment with my bank just in case the original check was stolen...drama I've never experienced before!) As I was waiting at the stop light to get into the shopping center, Paulo's little blue sports car flashed in front of me--he was heading back to the store from his lunch break. I pulled into the parking lot and he was sitting in his car, just eating some Wendy's chili (why on such a hot afternoon, I'll never know). I pulled up next to him and handed him his new jersey printout. He was quite appreciative and more than a little impressed. And then for me to actually hear him, I got out of my car and had to stoop down to actually peer into his rolled down passenger window...which poses an interesting dilemma: I have on this cute dress that's REALLY low cut--so I wear a camisole and it looks fine AND decent. Well, when you're bending over, it doesn't matter if I'm wearing a camisole or not. So there I am with my hand pressed against the opening of my dress trying to not flash him (I know I'm brazen with my words, but I'm a really modest prude when it comes to real life interactions) and so we chat. He asks what I'm up to today--umm, work? He got really excited "Here?" I told him I'd be there tonight--I have to finish the day at my day job. "Oh. What time?" I told him 5:30. "Oh. I'll be gone by then. I get off at 5. Maybe I'll stick around so we can say hi." He's having dinner with a coworker of ours from another store tonight (it should be just friend to friend as the girl he's going to meet is engaged to yet another TJ's employee at another store). And how he wants to spend some time outside before we have a storm. I totally see him as the throwing the frisbee around the park with his collie on a breezy afternoon kind of guy. "Yeah, maybe I'll stick around this afternoon and I'll see you. And then I'll see you tomorrow, right?" "No, I don't come in until 530 again and you're off early right?" "Yeah." He was genuinely sad.

NOW I'm getting uncomfortable. Please don't be another "you're like a maternal figure in my life" Dan Kane-alike. Please. I don't need any more of those. State your intentions! Wait. Maybe that speech should be directed at me...let me ponder that a moment.

Either way, it's totally sweet and his schedule has changed and he let me know, "We don't get our Saturday nights anymore." Oh, and he called me sweetheart. I think. He may have been using that word to describe me--or he may have called me that, I'm not sure. Either way, it was nice. It's nice to be appreciated and admired. And even though we only worked 3 of them, he remembered "our Saturday nights." And he remembered that I had lost my wallet and even asked about it. Attention to detail: check. I actually found it in my car--but he seemed genuinely relieved and told me so, and "now I can stop worrying. I'll call off the dogs." Cute. It was cute. He is cute. He gets an A+ on all facets so far (and no, I don't know if he loves Jesus. And I know that should be top priority. But right now, I'm just basking in being appreciated and admired. By a very good looking man. In a blue sports car. Who I may or may not be flashing with my low cut dress, bent over into his super tiny and low to the ground car.)

So we are here: my intentions are clear (to me, at least)...so I think I shall now sit back and see. I don't want to come across as an eager puppy dog, or worse yet a clingy Creepy Girl. I don't want to be introduced in his conversations as friends, "You'll never believe what Creepy Girl did at work today..." I think my jets shall be cooled until next Saturday and see what the Braves game leaves us with. Yes, terrific idea.