Unfortunately for you, the title bares a huge significance.
I have previously mentioned the perks of working in retail; today writes a new book.
Today, I was faced by a Weeping Transvestite. Now I’ve googled this and found nothing conclusive, I think its a rare type of transvestite.
I say faced in the sense that a very drunk and crying woman came into the shop and asked in an alarmingly deep manly voice “Beers! Where are your beers?!” She/he proceeded to the beers without me saying anything anyway, and shouted, “help me please!”.
I just wanted it over and done with so I got the beers and she paid whilst crying silently. Quite a lot though, hence the choice of ‘weeping’ as her crying adjective…
She/he then demanded a taxi, and luckily for her I knew a number and called her/him a cab.
The Weeping Transvestites obviously have no sense of patience; soon as the phone was down – “Where is my taxi *weeps* I need the taxi! *weeps*
Police file suspect sketch
By this point, other customers are getting a bit scared of this wo/man, dressed in white skinny jeans covered in what can only be described as ‘muck’, fly undone, quite a bulbous package underneath and a mish-mash of jumpers and vests and t-shirts. Still weeping. Oh did I mention the numerous bandages and cuts on her his hands? Oh and that she asked me to hold her whilst she waited because she had breast cancer, which later changed to not cancer but pneumonia, and several other illnesses she he may or may not have had.
Anyway, story cut a little shorter, her cab becomes held up and shes screaming “I need the taxi!”, (to what turned out to be a 5 minute walk – which she did to get to the shop- but obviously didn’t mind spending close to 50 minutes hassling customers for lifts whilst waiting), I went for my break and sighed a sigh of relief.
Her/his name is Margeretta by the way…
