Paranoia and promotion

I face work every day with a sense of dread. The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach has two related sources. The first is that someone I hate will come in, see me working there, and feel a smug sense of satisfaction and superiority. The second source of dread is that one day I will be selected to go outside, stand on the corner of the busy intersection, and wave the neon orange sign promoting our cheap-o pizzas. This would obviously make the first reason for dreading work an even more likely scenario. Usually a job reserved for the otherwise unemployable, there is a real possibility it could happen one day. I almost wish they hadn't done away with the Caesar costume, because at least then my real identity would be obscured.

Speaking of seeing people I know (or at least recognize), Shawn Bradley came in for some pizza the other day. I hope that information does not compromise any sort of client confidentiality agreement. I was sort of surprised to see him, because if I had that much money I would get Pizza Hut or Domino's. The other cashier helped him and after he had left she said completely seriously, "My ex was that tall."
Me: "Really? Seven-foot six?"
Her: "Okay, maybe not quite that tall, but he was tall."
Me: "Cool story."

Here's what tipped me off that she was exaggerating: If he were even in the same zip code as Shawn Bradley's height he would probably have some level of success in a basketball career. A life containing successful, constructive activities is exactly what would preclude him from ever knowing this female cashier I work with. Given that he dated her at some point, I know of a certain gaudy orange sign he is perfectly qualified to wave around.