This afternoon I was waiting at the check out of the local super market. It's always the same old story: I never manage to pick the right queue. It's something I simply suck at, because for some reason or another I always go standing in the line where it takes over 15 minutes for the old and mostly cripple grandmothers to find the right change. Yesterday an Asian couple was standing before me with at least thirty boxes of Jules Destrooper biscuits (these cookies are tha bomb yo, for real). No kidding. I'm bad at picking the right queue.
While I stand in the line waiting, I always notice the rather hideous employees sitting behind the check out.
Today was no different. Before me sat a woman, somewhere begin thirties. I later learned from the receipt that her name is Sara. Sara looked like she had just cleaned a frying pan with her hair, and her eyebrows were so bushy that I bet at least two squirrels were living there. Her moustache gave the finishing touch to what I like to call the "Neanderthal look". Maybe, if she keeps up with it, it'll become a trend. But I reckon she will be dead and buried before that happens. I seriously felt like grabbing her a pack of Gillette Fusion razorblades. Even Mario would be ashamed of his moustache if he were standing next to Neanderthal girl.
In the hope to spot something better, I turned around to check out the other personnel. Things didn't exactly start to look up.
A woman with bright red spiky hair was sitting behind her desk. Let's call her Linda. She was wearing goggles, which, to my big surprise, were quite fashionable. But even a blind guy with no cane could tell that Linda didn't know shit about how to apply make-up. From what I could see, this is how I think her morning goes. Linda gets out of bed, and stumbles into the bathroom. She applies the gel in her hair while sitting on the toilet, whereafter she faces the mirror. Then she wakes up. Linda then pulls open the drawer, takes two inkpots with blue ink in them and pushes the pots against her eyes. Linda tilts her head back, and now she is ready to go.
I don't get that nobody ever told Linda to use less make-up. Seriously girl, you look like your husband has beaten you up badly after a night of boozing with the pals in the local strip club.
At times like these, I wish I could be like Trinny or Susannah and just tell them what is wrong with the way they look, and improve the way they treat themselves and how others will treat them after a much-needed make-over. To be honest, I am not surprised that they work at the department store. There's very few employers who want to hire a woman who looks like she goes hunting for mammoths with a spear in her spare time. And who would hire a Tina Turner who looks like she has just been rolled down the river? I'm just sayin', I'm just sayin'.
While I stand in the line waiting, I always notice the rather hideous employees sitting behind the check out.
Today was no different. Before me sat a woman, somewhere begin thirties. I later learned from the receipt that her name is Sara. Sara looked like she had just cleaned a frying pan with her hair, and her eyebrows were so bushy that I bet at least two squirrels were living there. Her moustache gave the finishing touch to what I like to call the "Neanderthal look". Maybe, if she keeps up with it, it'll become a trend. But I reckon she will be dead and buried before that happens. I seriously felt like grabbing her a pack of Gillette Fusion razorblades. Even Mario would be ashamed of his moustache if he were standing next to Neanderthal girl.
In the hope to spot something better, I turned around to check out the other personnel. Things didn't exactly start to look up.
A woman with bright red spiky hair was sitting behind her desk. Let's call her Linda. She was wearing goggles, which, to my big surprise, were quite fashionable. But even a blind guy with no cane could tell that Linda didn't know shit about how to apply make-up. From what I could see, this is how I think her morning goes. Linda gets out of bed, and stumbles into the bathroom. She applies the gel in her hair while sitting on the toilet, whereafter she faces the mirror. Then she wakes up. Linda then pulls open the drawer, takes two inkpots with blue ink in them and pushes the pots against her eyes. Linda tilts her head back, and now she is ready to go.
I don't get that nobody ever told Linda to use less make-up. Seriously girl, you look like your husband has beaten you up badly after a night of boozing with the pals in the local strip club.
At times like these, I wish I could be like Trinny or Susannah and just tell them what is wrong with the way they look, and improve the way they treat themselves and how others will treat them after a much-needed make-over. To be honest, I am not surprised that they work at the department store. There's very few employers who want to hire a woman who looks like she goes hunting for mammoths with a spear in her spare time. And who would hire a Tina Turner who looks like she has just been rolled down the river? I'm just sayin', I'm just sayin'.
x, L.
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