Tap-dancing through a minefield.

There comes a time, should you work in retail long enough, where you discover you have very special customers. You know the sort. These are the people upon the very instant you see them coming through the door precipitates wild plans to somehow avoid dealing with them. Employees who have never smoked a cigarette find themselves in desperate need to light up. Appendixes inflame and burst without warning, even if they've been removed years ago. Jostling to go on lunch break immediately develops an urgency sometimes necessitating gladiatorial combat. Eyes glaze. Clerks wonder how many of their limbs they'll need to gnaw off to escape.

New hires often find these people part of "paying their dues" as low man on the totem-pole. Cruel and heartless? Perhaps. However, how else are they supposed to get that hard won expertise in customer service if they don't get to cut their teeth on someone challenging. Besides, rank hath its privileges.

Should you notice a cluster of salespeople suddenly engage in a frenzy of rock, paper, scissors before one makes their way over to you, either you are one of their favorite customers or far from. If you're curious as to which side of the continuum you are positioned, check out those who are not coming over to assist you. A look of disappointment, however slight is the clue you're hoping for. If they look relieved, perhaps you need to assess your behavior as a customer.

As a whole, we are much more prone to add people to our "This customer is really cool" list as opposed to the "Dear gods why am I being punished" list. With the myriad annoyances that will creep through a work week, the enjoyable interactions tend to stick out. By the same token, it requires severe and repeated doses of angst before people are recognized for it.

For example, there is a woman who will migrate into the store every now and again. I swear, if she was a frequent regular I would open a vein. With a river rock. Foremost, this woman will go through the smoking supplies. Most often she has five dollars, give or take a dollar, to spend. Right off the bat, that knocks most of her options right out the window, however, she will not be deterred. She will have me pulling pieces and checking prices for between a half hour to an hour. Always determined to find that one hidden amidst the rest that is magically in her budget and a masterwork. As if that was not aggravating enough, she will maintain a steady stream of noise in a high pitched, nasal voice. If she's not moaning like a consumptive elephant seal, she's babbling meaningless apologies, complaining about various aches and pains, or announcing details of the inner workings of her marriage. In short, when she enters the store, I have to swallow back bile by the gallon and endure suffering looks from the other patrons.

These are the people I cannot help but picture in a George Romero picture attempting to batter through boarded up windows and doors to feast upon the brains of the living.

Or there are those people who have been steady customers here for a long span of time, as in several months at a minimum, who still need to be reminded about store rules. I had one guy who every time he came in would light up a cigarette in the arcade. Every time, we'd have to remind him there was no smoking allowed in the building. Eventually I did stop him and tell him he needed to find a new store. That was a rare instance. Most will only forget just enough to set one's teeth on edge, but not consistently enough to be more than a judgment call to boot them. It does not help matters one whit that it infuriates me to have to repeat myself.

The first group often make me wonder what karma I must be paying. The latter kindle long simmering contemplations as to whether they honestly possess learning curves so shallow as require the Hubble telescope to gain enough distance to discern any curvature or that they pay such scant attention to what I as an employee communicate to them. Neither theory inspires much hope.