Dumpster Diving

I could write about the fact that a sci-fi/comic book memorabilia store opened next to us, and therefore there were superheros walking around all day. (Large amounts of geek made us all very happy.)

I could write about the lady that emotionally vomited all over us because she was "at the edge of sanity" because she went shoe shopping with her friend. (No, I don't get it either.)

But no, I shant write about all of that, because the best thing happened at the end of the night, after we closed the store.

The Boss Lady is in town. She lives out of state, and comes once a month to leave us a towering inferno of boxes, and frazzled nerves. We love her, because she really is a great boss, but the endless unpacking and inventory-taking makes us twitchy.

Georges and I were closing tonight, and had done very well as far as business goes all day long. We geeked out over the new store, laughed about the crazy lady (who suggested we tag her information in the computer as Crazy B*tch - no lie, it was funny), and laughed about the endless bars of soap we had to put away.

Actually, that was mostly Georges, because I forgot an entire pile of soap when alphabetizing them all, and had a small mental breakdown. But that's beside the point.

Good night, all in all. Then it was time to leave.

Because Boss Lady came around, we had a massive pile of broken down boxes to throw in the dumpster when it was time to go. So, we gathered them all up, juggled them out the door, and threw them all in the dumpster.

Then Georges realised he was missing his bottle of pills.

He had shoved the bottle in his pocket before we'd hauled all of the boxes to the dumpster, and so after staring at each other for a minute, he said "...I think they're in there."

Which set me off giggling uncontrollably.

It wasn't nice, and I apologized multiple times, but it was funny!

Before letting him hop in the dumpster, I suggested that we go make sure they hadn't fallen out of his pocket on the way from the store, or even in the store.

On the way back to our shop, we ran into a security guard.

An old, crotchety security guard, with no sense of humour at all.

Me: "Excuse me, have you seen a bottle of pills?" (note: this was said while still giggling like a madwoman)

Guard: "Pills?!"

Me & Georges: "Antibiotics."

(I don't think he believed us.)

They weren't on the sidewalk, they weren't in the store. They hadn't even rolled into the street.

Poor Georges. There was nothing for it, he had to go dumpster diving. (Because there was no way I was getting in there.)

Good thing he's a tall, skinny kid. He was quite agile, actually. I was impressed.

Of course, that was until he hollered "Oh my God! It's wet!"

Cue the giggling again.

To make matters worse, we finally found them. In one of the boxes, right on top of the pile.

Now Georges smells like garbage, and I'm still giggling.