Summer at the mall is nothing like the holidays. Instead of endless lines you have a line of one, maybe two, customers. The hallways aren't the usualy packed, madness that winter brings. People instead are out camping or going to the beach, things I'd like to be doing. So when you're working in the mall, it really bites; less customers equals less hours.
The continuous renovations to the Christiana Mall confuse customers all too often. I realize that I too am a customer when I shop, but when I'm working it seems like all customers have only half the brains they should. Again and again, people come up to our store and ask us where certain stores have gone, when other stores will open, how long the renovations will last. I begin to wonder if the sign above our store says "Customer Service" rather than "Auntie Anne's". Do I have a "YOU ARE HERE" sign on my forehead?
It truly is funny, though, watching a customer's actions and predicting what they'll do. It's even funnier when I get it right. For instance, when I hand the customer their pretzle and place their napkins on the counter, they always seem to forget the napkins. Then I seem them strolling back, searching for those handy papers and then try not to laugh as they ask me where to find the napkins. I simply reach out and hand them the napkins I offered them in the first place which earns me either an oblivious smile or a sheepish blush. Maybe it's mean, but during those long, boring summer days working in the mall, you've got to find entertainment where you can.
Occasionally, there's a rush, like when it rains or a chilly weekend. Time to get our game faces on then, and the "how can I help you"s and "thank you, have a nice day"s become a blur. Every face is different, but the same; every voice unique, yet recognizable. I sometimes wonder if people who work in the mall are forever trapped in the predictability of people. They're not all predictable though, and I often find customers who either make me laugh or completely annoy me. It's the general continuous actions that makes them subject to pattern.
The entire life of the mall is a pattern, though, so how can they help it? Everyday it's the same. I come walking in to the still-not-finished food court and catch a waft of the warm, greasy hair from Arby's. Then I smell the spice and sauces from Suki Hana and hear them begging customers to try samples. When I look over they're reaching their arms out like children catching balloons, with a savory slice of chicken perched on the toothpick in their fingertips. There's always a mess somewhere that the custodians are scurrying to mop up and their eyes avert your gaze as you pass as if they're ashamed. I don't know why though; they're just doing their job. Occasionally I'll see a bird flying overhead, trying to get out through the skylights. Then the familiar smell of pretzle dough reaches my nose and it's almost like being home.
When the holidays come around, everything will change and we'll be swamped. Our manager will send frantic phone calls for extra people to come in and work. There will be no time for laugh and play then, only forced smiles and frantic pretzle making. Other stores will suffer and enjoy the same swarms of people and the food stores are subject to the longest lines and the most people. Retail and jewelers? Hah! It would be a walk in the park compared to our business.
A new girl said to me during a rush last week that she had never seen it so busy. I laughed as I watched her catch her breath and said, "You think this is busy? You aint seen nothin' yet."