You won’t hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, but maybe something equally as important (though with fewer lanterns).

Today I refrained from punching several people in the throat. Their crime? Not listening. If you come into the store and ask for my advice, please listen to what I have to say. I know what I’m talking about.

A man is in search of dress shoes. He inquires about a specific style in a 10. We didn’t have it. Instead of sending him out into the world empty-handed, I bring out a similar style we do have in his size.

I said: “We don’t have the plain-toe in your size, but I do have this one. It’s the exact same shoe, just with a raised seam on the toe. Everything else is exactly the same.”

The man takes one of the shoes in his hands. He looks at it for a second. He says that’s not the shoe he asked for. I repeat my entire speech. He takes the shoe to the display wall. “I’ll need a few minutes to compare these and see what the difference is,” he said.

*Repeatedly bangs head against countertop*

A woman is on the hunt for a sale shoe. Ok, not a problem. We have several bargains that will fill her need of cheapness over comfort. She picks up two of our really good shoes and asks what the sale prices are. I explain that those styles are not on sale, but the ones with the GIANT RED SALE TAGS on their shelves and the GIANT sale tags attached to the shoe are on sale.

She then asks about the sale prices of at least four other shoes that lack A) a GIANT RED SALE TAG and B) a GIANT sale tag attached to the shoe.

I explain the system once again. She asks about another non-sale item. I decide today is not a good day to murder someone and offer to bring some in her size that are on sale. Somehow that wasn’t good enough, so she left.

A guy came in looking for new running shoes. I listen to his needs. I ask probing questions. I analyze his feet. I know exactly which running shoe is going to fit him perfectly. I bring it to him in the correct size. He says they feel great the second he puts them on his feet. He goes for a quick run. They feel even better.

But maybe he’ll come back some other time. Um, what? The first thing he told me was that his current running shoes are dead and he desperately needs a new pair. I give him one that perfectly fits his needs. He says they’re cheaper than he expected. What’s the problem? He leaves, without new shoes.

*Bangs head repeatedly on counter*

No matter where you live, work, shop for groceries or walk your dog (or hamster), there’s a set of people you see every day. Many of the people you see that often have direct contact with you. They have a reason to acknowledge your presence, and maybe even speak to you.

Then there are the others. These are the people you pass by, but don’t talk to and maybe don’t even know their names. Those people interest me.

I work with roughly seven other people, and usually not more than two or three of them at a time. But I see 10 or 15 other individuals at some point in my work day, where my only real knowledge about them is where the work, and perhaps how good they are at making my food.

The most entertaining and puzzling bunch is at the store right across the hall from us. During weekdays, there’s not much going on for either group. We do a lot of standing and staring out into space, and basically looking right at each other.

I have nicknames for most of the people there. They help me create personas for each one, and if they happen to do something funny the name aids in retelling the story to one of my coworkers.

My favorite used to be Samurai Guy. He’s probably in his late 40s, has a grey ponytail that goes two feet down his back and wears glasses. He looks like someone who has a black belt and is full of knowledge. I liked the presence of such a guy in my view, just in case something went down and I needed ninja qualities to come to my aid.

Then he did something to make me not like him so much. He broke the barrier.

You see, we have contact with most of the other stores in our little hallway. We bum change from Journeys. A couple of the guys have gotten phones from Sprint. We chat with the kiosks in front of us, especially the one manned by the guy we call Fabio.

But not our neighbors across the hall. Never. Ever.

So when Samurai guy left his store, I watched as his came straight towards us and never made his normal turn. He wasn’t going to the food court or the book store. He was coming right for us. I didn’t know what to do.

All of this would have been fine if he came in, kicked someone and rolled out. But instead he asked about softball cleats for his daughter in a voice that was not at all like the Samurai I had in my head. Samurai Guy was dead.

Oh well, I still have Pringles Guy and Bald Manager Guy. They just hired some new people, so I’ll have to work on names for them. Maybe I should just go ask them their names. Nah, not as fun.

My favorite part of this phenomenon is the person you just start saying hi to, and from then on it’s like a game to see how that interaction is going to go.

I’ve got this going with a couple of people at kiosks that are on my way to Taco Bell. If the attendant is not helping a customer, and we make eye contact, they get some sort of “Hey, how’s it going?” That’s the furthest any conversation has gone. Some days they are on top of things and seem happy that someone even acknowledged their existence. Other days I just get a little head nod. Sometimes I get nothing, but having spent far too many hours with little to do in that mall, I know the ease of totally checking out mentally for a bit.

There’s always tomorrow.

If you’re in need of some entertainment, go here.

My job is very very exciting. I love it ever so much and it’s hard to say what part makes me the happiest. (Editors Note: I’d use some sort of bolding or colors to heighten the sarcasm, but if you know me, that’s really just not necessary).

I’d say the radio station that fills the store with music and helpful tips every second of every day has to be near the top of the list.

Back when I first started, we had a multi-disc CD changer piped into our sound system that allowed for either random play or a disc of our choosing to be played. It was a glorious system.

For some reason, we had to go to a streaming radio provider that seemed to be great at first, and quickly and thoroughly lost its luster. Between constant playing of “Love Shack,” some Grease songs and an overall programming aimed at people twice my age, I’m just not that fond of it.

But then came the mic breaks. “Hey if you love jazz, you love this next tune!”…followed by a song that was most clearly not jazz.

If only we could just have music and not be forced to listen to the same announcer over and over spew things that just plain don’t make even a slight bit of sense.

“Hey if you like this store, you’ll love our store in McLean, Virginia, where Jennifer and the Myspace sales team will get you what you need.” Um. What? Granted, most of us do have Myspace, but how on Earth does that make us the Myspace sales team?

But it doesn’t end there. Another offering from our friendly announcer informs customers that our shoes are “irresistible and irreverent.” Irresistible, sure, call them that. Irreverent? I actually had to look that one up to get a definition, and apparently our shoes lack respect. Sounds an awful lot like some signs you see overseas that have an English translation for “Men’s Bathroom” that says something like “Depository Please Receptacle of Man.”

But hey, I guess I shouldn’t complain. I only have to listen to it for 32 hours a week.

One final note…If you’re having money troubles, I suggest you check this out.