I'm finally getting sick of the Christmas music. Its the incessant drone of kid- friendly, adult- proof crappy classic beatless timeless Christmas Carols. I can't take it anymore. Yesterday, when the store was deserted, I actually played one song of normal music from my own cd case. It was like the real world coming back to me.

There is no real world. There is only red polo, khaki pants, and name tag. There is only the snowman wall and the gold angel shelves, the Halloween corner and the two giant rotating Christmas trees. There is only the sickly- sweet smell of cinnamon and Bing Crosby singing 'Jingle Bells'. There are spiders lurking in corners and my feet ache up to my shins, but I wish good afternoons and only smile vaguely when customers try to break the service barrier and ask me how I can stand Christmas year- round.

I was in such a bad mood today. First I was late, and then the car in front of me was driving a paltry 5 miles over the speed limit. I was tired, cranky, and entirely unenthusiastic about the day that lay before me. I even referred to an ornamagic rotating ornament hanger as a 'spinny thingie' to a customer.

The 'Nutcrackers' part II

I swept, dusted, and swept some more. The afternoon wore on. It was clear to me that no one else was going to come into the store. The crowds were nearing the entrance now, for one last ride and souvenir, and I was all the way back here, about as far away from the entrance as one could be. I looked at the tin soldier out of the corner of my eye, subtlety. I slipped my hand into his and squeezed a little. I felt the lump where the carver had half- heartedly made a thumb, but the rest of the fingers had no definition. My hand fit perfectly into the groove of his palm, and I was half- expecting the hand to grow warm and squeeze back.

People had been calling the poor guy a nutcracker all day. One or two times I almost got mad and corrected them, in the sharp way I would have done if it were someone I knew. I always caught myself. But really, how could they mix it up? Nutcrackers had large mouths and wild eyes and a lever in the back. They were nothing like nutcrackers!

Two men walked purposely toward the store. I was terribly confused, since men usually only wandered in by accident or when they wanted to supervise their wife’s premature Christmas spending spree. The one in the lead hunted around the store and then asked me if we had any nutcrackers. I frowned in concentration and then led him to the only one I had ever seen in the store, a little guy with a blue suit. I heard two more stragglers, a woman and her child, walk in.

"Mmmm, it smells like Christmas in here," The woman breathed. "Look honey, it's two big nutcrackers."

"Oooh" Said her child, with big eyes.

I looked appealingly at the man to correct the misguided woman, but he merely put down the little nutcracker, thanked me, and left the store. The woman was browsing around what I called the ugly tree only in my head, the one with all the homemade looking ornaments. The tree was a collision of gingerbread brown and red-and-green plaid. The tree that I liked was the one near my register, the glittery one with the purple glass orbs and crystal gold icicles. She picked up a reindeer made of s'mores.

"You guys have such cute stuff in here." She said. I smiled non-committally. She picked up a few more things, which I straightened after she left. I then went back to my register, to be alone with my tin soldier.

The 'Nutcrackers'

The first time I found myself alone in 'Hollidaze', the mostly- Christmas store in Bonfante gardens, I had to take a good look at the two giant wooden Tin Soldiers that guarded the register counter. They were huge, about 8 feet tall. Their faces were round and rosy, like Lego faces, with unfashionably bushy moustaches. Someone had perched plush toys on their shoulders, presumably so that they would be visible, but it seemed to me that the men were both too dignified for stuffed animals. I walked right up to the one next to my register and peered quizzically up at him. I could date a guy this tall. All his height is in the hat, really

Now this was a while ago, way back before I discovered the other CD's in the drawer and all I had playing was Carousel-style music box Christmas music. It droned repetitively and was making me a little dizzy. The store was empty for half hours at a time, and the lack of human contact was making me a little delirious.

I knocked on the soldier's puffed out red chest and tapered black belted waist and heard that it was hollow. I trailed my fingers under his belt as I walked back behind the counter.

"Daddy, Look- its a nutcracker!!" A small boy was running into the store while his father lingered behind, pushing a stroller.

I pulled my hand away from the soldier quickly, frightened that some one would see me molesting the scenery.

The dad surveyed the soldiers with mild interest. "Oh yeah, that’s neat. I'm gonna look around ok mijo?"

He started walking clockwise around the store, stopping at one of the Christmas tree's and around Santa's sleigh. He stepped over Thanksgiving, paused at Halloween, and then was faced with a wall full of Christmas towels and oven mitts. He wasn't remotely interested in any of them; he was only in here for the air conditioning. I got that a lot. His son was dancing around the feet of the tin soldiers and babbling. Dad returned to him in a minute.

"Dad, look he has a reindeer on his shoulder!" Dad glanced at it for a second, braced himself for the heat outside, and led his son out.

"Thank you." He called over his shoulder. He turned into a silhouette and then vanished. I gave my toy soldier a look and settled down on the counter, waiting for more business.

To be Continued....

Receipt #1- 10 and 1/2 inches, 6 hour shift.

Fatigue and boredom settled unbearably on me and stewed in the quiet Christmas I was trapped in. I entered into a state of continuum, leaning on the counter in whatever way took the most weight off my feet. I had stopped finding things for myself to do, even stopped reading the Christmas books. I just sang airily along with the Christmas music, unaware if two minutes or an hour had passed since the last time I revived long enough to recall who I was, where I was, and what I was doing.

I allowed customers to interrupt my reverie, because I wanted Mr. Bonfante to make money. The Park was a grand and stubbornly idealistic fabrication, and I admired its inventor, in a vaguely pitying way. I did not however, welcome the thought of a fellow cashier with whom to wile away the lonely hours. I can fool myself all I like about how I'm really extroverted because I can carry on pleasant conversation with senior citizens, but the truth is that I prefer the company of myself to nearly any other person and if I have nothing else in this chill fragrant store, I have my privacy, and that is enough for me.

1 o'clock came and 1 o'clock went and no other red shirt approached with a cash bag, so I figured I would have my store to myself after all. I put on the nutcracker CD, for even the whirring of my own voice was too much of a distraction for me. The peace gelled around me gratefully like cool water.

Well, I will be posting to this one soon enough. I think that the Description says it all. I'd better hurry before they move me to another store ;-)