I'd like to name this post "How Phoe got her Christmas Spirit Back," and dedicate it to The Man Who Saved Christmas. Just so all you know.

I had to work today, and it was busy and crazy and crappy, though thankfully not as much as yesterday or last Saturday. And I was sleep deprived because of stupid Narnia and my wind-down time afterwards.

My family is not doing much for Christmas. It's a big let down. And there was all the ruined ice cream cake/meat business. And on top of that: I think working retail is enough to turn anyone into a HUGE Christmas hater. The yuletide season has been a nightmare thus far.

So anyway, with an hour or two left in my shift, I was just like, wanting the hell out of there. But one of my coworkers (one of the seasonal people I haven't come up with a nickname for, really) came up with a goal for me: one of us should get a customer to buy one of the horribly tacky neon pink christmas trees we have at the store right now. She was joking, and I believe she regretted creating this monster, because I took the idea and ran with it to a frightening intensity, but I decided what the hell, and made it my personal goal for today to badger some unsuspecting customer into buying a neon pink christmas tree.

I knew it would be an uphill battle. I think I've rung up half the people in this town, and no one had bought any of our stupid little christmas trees to the best of my knowledge, not even the slightly less weird green or red ones. But I loved it. It gave me fresh banter so I didn't have to keep wearing out the things I've said to customers 5,000 times before, and some of them did find it pretty funny. I started polishing up this elaborate spiel about how the pink tree was woven by Buddhist monks with the finest of synthetic materials, and was all the rage in Milan, where several riots had occured because of a neon pink christmas tree shortage. And, because I have been trying to get people to use the Kwanzaa paper for awhile now, I started adding, "And we can wrap it in this lovely Kwanzaa paper!" to the spiel.

Of course, no one wanted it. A girl with a bright pink hat that somewhat matched the tree momentarily seemed a little interested until learning the price. That was about the closest I got for a long time. I also tried extra hard to get Lister's wife, who bought some stuff at my register today, to get one, just because I think it would be hilarious to imagine Lister's face as he woke up Christmas morning to a neon pink christmas tree. But she wisely turned me down.

But then, a hero only before seen in legend, a prince among men, The Man Who Saved Christmas came up to my register and bought a neon pink Christmas tree from me. "OH MY GOSH," I told him, with the air of a fourteen year old meeting her favorite Backstreet Boy for the first time, "YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND NOW," I told him. Then, I regained my composure enough to ask, "Would you like that wrapped?"

"Yes," The Man Who Saved Christmas told me, "That would be fantastic!"

I tried not to let my voice shake as I asked him the question that destiny had been leading up to for my entire life, "Would you like Kwanzaa paper?"

"Sure," The Man Who Saved Christmas told me, "That would be alright."

So with trembling fingers, I wrapped a neon pink Christmas tree in Kwanzaa paper. I can't even describe to you how happy I was. I don't even know why, but I was so darned happy. It was one of the best gifts anyone could even get for me this holiday. I probably frightened the poor man, because I couldn't stop telling him how great it was.

I think he just happened to be buying the pink christmas tree anyway, because he had it when he walked up to the registers, and that's all he got aside from this little package of christmas ornaments for it. But the coworker who accidently started this kept being like, "No, Phoe. Nobody just buys a neon pink Christmas tree for no reason. It just doesn't happen." And then we all speculated that maybe The Man Who Saved Christmas secretly loves me (which I doubt). If he does love me, though, that is cool too. I could not turn down a man who buys a neon pink christmas tree and gets it wrapped in Kwanzaa paper. We could get married and populate the world with strange, strange children.

So that's how I got my Christmas spirit back.


PS: apparently after that, Optpri and Mulva wrote a song about me.

You know Kevin and Optpri and Mulva and Elaine
TII and Lister and Sista and boss-boss
But do you recall
The awesomest (like that) worker of all...
Phoe the spastic Cashier
Had a bizarre sales routine
And if you ever heard it
You'd refrain from book shopping
All of the other cashiers
Ridiculed her bad dance moves
You know, it barely phased her
She kept on cranking out her grooves

Then one stormy christmas eve,
boss-boss came to say:
Shut up about that dumb pink tree,
Won't you lift this box for me

Then how the Phoe lifted
As she gave out an "Umph"
Phoe the spastic cashier
was somehow employee of the month

I thought it was hilarious. I've always wanted a song about me. It should go into my rock opera along with the one I wrote about how I'm not a fat-ass bitch.

PPS: Sista was really down, and I shared the song with her, and she laughed so hard it brought some of her Christmas spirit back. It's a Kwanzaa miracle that echoes throughout the firmament!