For New Year's Eve my mom, sister, and I went to the local D.I. to search for books. (For those of you who aren't from around here, it is a non-profit thrift store.) And, yes, I think the fact we went to a thrift store on New Year's Eve pretty much proves we don't have a party bone in our bodies. But, neither did the other 107 people that were there either. The place was hoppin.
We had only been there five minutes, when a deep masculine voice came over the loud speaker and informed us the store would be closing in ten minutes. It was 2:50 p.m.! Who knew places closed early on New Year's Eve? Obviously not me, or the other 107 people.
Five seconds after the announcement, they shut off the lights. Five seconds! What was I supposed to do? Stop in the middle of the shelf of used books I was salivating on and feel my way to the register? I still had ten minutes to find something to curl up with by the fire. (And I mean a book, not one of my 107 fellow shoppers.) So, I did what any sane, book loving person with ten more minutes on the clock would do. I planted my feet and hollered to the ceiling, "We don't need lights to shop!" and kept looking. So did my mother and sister. Although I must admit, they didn't yell anything at the invisible man in the ceiling. They are much more socially acceptable than I am. And ninety of the 107 people agreed with us. They stayed, too.
This didn't make the invisible man happy. He continued to announce that the store was closing. He even gave us directions to the registers. We ignored him.
Then, he sent his minions. Visible ones. They fanned out through the store, asking, ordering, begging us to go to the registers. One of them told us to leave because he had a life, too. I mean really. Did he think we had lives? We were refusing to leave a thrift store on New Year's Eve.
After a few more announcements, we graciously agreed to go, and followed the herd of shoppers to the registers where we stood in line for twenty minutes! I could have been drooling on books and annoying the invisible man. Well, there's always next year.