I think I have one of those faces that is so open and honest that people feel compelled to tell their life stories to. It happens a lot at work. Oh, you would like some hand cream? Wait, before that, please tell me about your life from the age of 4 until now.
Case in point: This older woman came in today, and, per store policy, I automatically go over to greet her and offer her some samples, find out if I can help her, ect. This leads to a five minute grappling on her part: No, she doesn't need anything, but she really should look for some christmas gifts, but she can't afford them, and some people are soooo hard to shop for, and have I been to the new resturant, and well, her hands are really dry and do I have any samples? Why of course I have samples of some of our best selling hand creams!
(Speaking of which, stay tuned for a rant on the bane of my working existance, samples.)
I take her over, get her a couple samples and in the midst of trying to explain what each one was, she launches into her full life's story (this is pretty much verbatim on how she said it, as well.). "She has nine daughters, and their hands get sooooo chapped in the winter, and one of them was murdered last year and she was so angry at it she shut the world out but thank god they saved her grandchild but she refused to go out with her children for dinner because she was so angry so she went to church instead and the sermon was about how God understands our pain..." Now at this point she stops and asks if I am a Catholic, at which point I blink and shake my head no. (I'm not...really anything. I believe in a God, I just don't agree with a lot of religions. Nothing against anyone who does. One of my best friends is a staunch catholic.) By this point, I had felt my face freeze from that natural smile into the fake, polite, uncomfortable smile that I felt compelled to put on during her tale. She continues to explain to me how "all her anger melted away and she came straight to the mall to go to dinner with her family and that I'm a daughter of the Blessed Mother Mary and if I gave her three steps she would take a hundred for me", at which point she nods gravely, turns on her heel, and leaves the store, leaving me to stand in stunned silence.
Now. What would you do? I mean, I did feel sorry for her. I'm not a monster! But.. I'm normally a very private person. I don't go telling people about my hardships and woes right off the bat. (Give me a few drinks and then maybe I will.) Hell, I hardly tell my mother and my boyfriend half the stuff that bothers me. I dono. Its just weird.
Or maybe I'm weird.
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