“I was supposed to bring in this postcard–?, ” she said weakly. I looked at her from behind the counter. She was cute- long black hair in a loose pony tail, with khaki pants and a blue top that accentuated the lines of her figure.
“You won a T shirt?” I said with false authority. Everyone assumed you worked here, and shook hands with Jon Bon Jovi once a week. The truth was, I once saw the back of Todd Rundgren’s head as he left the building.
“Yes, I think so. I was the seventh caller. I knew all the songs in order.”
“One of the ‘Pete’s Puzzler’s?’ ”
“Yeah. I listen to this station all the time.”
The radio station where I was interning usually put me down here in the storefront to sell the occasional bumper sticker and redeem prize giveaways. It wasn’t hard- they let me bring in my laptop and soak up the station’s WiFi, and while I wasn’t learning much, it wasn’t hard.
“Do you see one you like?,” I said, trying to sound important.
“How about the pink one there?” She pointed above my head at the display.
“Sure. What size?”
“Are you sure that won’t be too big? You look like a small to me!” Easy peasy lemon squeezy, as my English professor used to say.
She giggled. “You’re sweet. No, that’s my size.”
Score, I thought.