Let's talk about work ethic, shall we? Let's talk about the way in which K.D. goes about his job. Let's have a little chit-chat about... fuck. I'm rambling. I'm gonna go get a beer.
...
Alright, so here's what I have to say regarding the way in which K.D. works:
Firstly, let's talk about the general work ethic of my place of business. How do people conduct themselves? Well, there's a general degree of enthusiasm for the products that we sell, though the workers themselves are pretty laid-back. Don't need it? We'll tell you. Can't afford it? Get your broke ass over to Big 5. Too fat for it? Do a sit-up chubsauce. We're not pushy by any means. Well, most of us.
K.D. has embraced his job as a salesman in the way that literally no one else at our store (and probably company) has. The average customer comes into our store with a fresh face and a song in their heart, whilst visions of uncharted lands and exotic peoples dance through their heads. Then they are confronted by K.D., and like a pedophile at a pool party, he sucks the fun away (though some like it).
Let's say I'm some dumb bloke looking for a new pair of kicks. I see blankety-blank-blank looming in the distance, and I decide to go there for my shoesies. I walk through the doors and huff and puff up the stairs. I take a left, ask the handsome bearded gentleman where to find the shoes. He flashes a charming smile, raises a well-muscled arm with a prominent, commanding finger, directing me onward down the aisle. As I approach, I'm startled by a loud voice.
"Sir in the blue jacket! Good day! Let us know if we can be of assistance!"
And from there, I don't know who I am. I came in for a pair of casual shoes, maybe a sneaker of some sort, and now I'm being sold a pair of hiking boots. I don't even need boots. Look at me! I'm hideous. 5' 8" and well over two bucks. My physique is not even comparable to that of the gentleman at the top of the stairs. Yet this chucklehead is trying to sell me this pair of hiking boots. And what's this? Socks? Did I even inquire about socks? I own like thirty pairs of socks. I walk in for a quick pair of shoes, and now I'm being sold everything but. And I can't back out. I try, but I'd be confronted by raised eyebrows and more questions. I can't handle this! Yes, I'll buy it all! Just let me leave with my dignity!
A shallow husk. A single tear. I can never go back to the way things were.
This is how things are with K.D. Low-key is not in his vocabulary. Subtlety he does not do. He sees you and he knows what he wants for you, and dammit he will make you take it. Sure, it might be the business equivalent of rape, but he likes to walk on the wild side.
In addition, he spends way too much time with one person on a busy day, he shirks all other responsibilities such as cleaning and organizing because he loves to hear his own voice, and he turns a five-minute power-break into a half-hour siesta. But no one could ever fault him for his performance, because he sells a lot of product.
This is one area in which his co-workers aren't always enamored by him. While he unwittingly entertains us most of the time, in this aspect he's been known to piss some folks off. Not me though. I laugh and I laugh as other people sigh and sigh. Why? A) I'm a jackass, and B) I like to watch other people feel uncomfortable. But enough about me.
Where was I going with this? Right. We love our K.D., as do our bosses, but damn he can get on our nerves from time to time. It's a good thing he has so many other qualities we find amusing.
I'm going to go watch a meteor shower now. Life is beautiful.
