Losing track of who we are?

There are nights when someone will walk through the door who hasn't been on the premises in years, only to have them recognize me behind the counter. On one hand, it could be rather depressing. Have I really become such a fixture of the store that a visit to the store means a Lanius sighting? Sometimes I think about how long I have actually been on the payroll here and it's slightly daunting.

At the same time, it is also reassuring that I can hold onto a job that I mostly enjoy for a sizeable length of time. There is nothing quite so pathetically depressing as looking at a work history comprised of employment that only survived three to nine months for the last two years. I see enough of those with applicants here, I have no desire to visit such demons upon my own resume.

What sets me back on my heels most is not so much that I am recognized when they come back in again, but the look of relief many of them display. In many cases, they will stroll over to catch up with me as if I was some old high school acquaintance. They will ramble at me of where they've been, how their families have fared, any why they had not been in sooner. There are fewer situations more surreal and awkward than to have some stranger with a faintly familiar face looking to showcase their photojournalism skills with an impromptu presentation. This is a guy who came in to buy some nipple clamps and a large bottle of lube and suddenly I'm being shown his great aunt's birthday pictures! I'd hardly encompass that his dear old maiden aunt would ever have conceived that the highlights of her party would be broached with an adult store clerk. These guys don't even know my name, but they feel confident in telling me about their surgeries or their children or the lifespan of their latest relationship.

What the bloody hell is going on with modern life when I am cast in the role of familiar, friendly face? How bleak must their life be? Either that or I have some serious people skills talents.

Still damned creepy though.