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    rshort1202

    Saturday, January 26

    by , 02-12-2019 at 04:46 AM (68 Views)
    I am at work, in the clearance section. Two or three guys are browsing together over here; one of them approaches me, holding a pure white men's jumpsuit, saying heís looking for a different size. I quickly scan all of the hanging white items as well as the single rack thatís on the wall by the jeans. I come back over to tell him that I didnít find any, when we see a folded, white dress shirt on the cream white and fairly empty shelf in front of us at shoulder height. I casually offer it as a possible substitute. He unfolds it to find out that itís actually a tuxedo vest. He says something like Ďoh nice, a vest,í like it would actually work for him. As he is unfamiliar and possessing of a sort of expressionless face, I canít tell if heís being serious or if heís fucking with me. I now unfold another, and this one is actually a dress shirt. Itís close to a jumpsuit in only the material - itís heavier, like a broadcloth, also a cream white. This guy is actually happy with it and is going to get it. After they have left, I end up putting some items in the clearance next to the kids shoes. The shoes are on a torso-high display and looking pretty disheveled. There are way more things in this section than in real life. I start walking somewhere else, and the whole place is different and much larger than in real life. It seems more open; thereís a sort of skywalk to another part of the mall (or casino? - it feels a little like a casino). Over by it, I briefly help a Hispanic man look for something before I go to do something else. I end up over by the suits fitting room. Thereís a computer desk at the wall opposing the opening at which sits Evelyn. I have the impression that someoneís been trying to call me on this radio, but Iím not entirely sure. I ask Evelyn if they have, and she says yes. Someone (the lady at work with sort of darker skin and frizzy hair who I think is a supervisor and whose name Iím not sure of) starts walking over to me, saying that I didnít really help my customer if I didnít completely follow through (referencing the Hispanic man). She directs our attention to the man who is standing on the skywalk, arms crossed, but not in an unpleasant way. Heís wearing a plum colored long sleeve with a vest over it, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. He seems dependent on the help, not in a co-dependent way, but more like he is turning the trust over to the employee. I tell this supervisor sorry, I was helping someone else and so my radio was down, slowly adjusting the volume up as I speak. I do feel poorly for leaving him and for not hearing the radio. I tell her I know I was helping him, but I forget what for, and ask if she knows. I genuinely am trying to remember. Thereís another employee too, and they look slightly incredulous. I canít tell if they find it funny or think Iím stupid or both. At one point, someone was ridiculing me for something, and it irritated me enough that I considered bringing it up to someone higher up. Anyway, I attempt to make it right and start walking over to the man. There is a rush of people moving in both directions, causing me to lose sight of him. I reach the top of the incline on this skywalk so I can survey it all the way to the bottom, but he is nowhere to be found. I double back and still, nothing. Iím by an elevator now; it is closing, so I get the notion to jump into it while I can. Literally jumping forward into it, the doors brush me on each side before closing on my JCP key lanyard trailing behind me. I pull it out and turn around to be greeted by two Hispanic men. They both seem genial and good-natured, and they both seem to think my jumping into this elevator was somewhat funny if not unexpected. One of them is shorter and more portly; I think he has a mustache. I dryly say either ďthat was closeĒ or ďjust barely made it.Ē They begin talking to me, slipping into Spanish. It is too fluent for me to understand most of it. I think on a different floor now, I see the door closing. It is closing on a chubby white family with a daughter. I donít know why we havenít let them on, so I am awkwardly diverting my glance. Doors closed now, we need to choose a floor. They tell me Ďtresí and I go to press 3 but mistakenly press something else. I canít entirely read the numbers on the round, silver buttons. For whatever reason, I end up just pressing all of them, the off white light illuminating behind each in succession downwards. I think the elevator is going to the highest floor first. It ascends, and part of the wall must be glass, because I can see what looks like the Atlantis casino outside the elevator. [As in looking into the Atlantis (from within) from the elevator, not as in looking out at the Atlantis]. I think the men now exit and I continue up one more floor. The doors open, revealing a floor that appears to be one huge hot tub. Thereís a low ceiling and dim but colored (blue?) lighting that plays on what is either bubbles or an excess of foam. Thereís an unassuming swim up bar, and I think a pool up above it. A young boy climbs up and over the bar counter to get to it. I donít think Iím in the water, but I am conscious of its proximity to my clothes and my radio. I start to think about staying here and using the hot tub, imagining sneaking onto the hotel room floor to find a towel from a room being serviced or the service cart itself. I wonder if anyone at work would notice my prolonged absence, but figure itís a large place so maybe not.

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