Fact or Fiction: The Arranged Marriage

I work in a retail store. One day while I was working I was going about my business walking around the store to try and straighten things up before closing. As I am doing this I hear a muffle in the ear piece of my radio and hear my manager ask, “Nick, can you cover the break at customer service?”

Truth be told, I really did not want to work at the service desk because not only does it limit me to a confined space, but I’ve met some characters while working customer service — characters who have screamed in my relaxed, “I don’t care if you yell at me, I still can’t help you with what you’re asking” face. But not only this, weird things tend to happen at customer service because you never know who is going to come talk to you. I honestly didn’t know if I was mentally ready for the task. But I wasn’t about to tell my boss “no” so I just had to roll with it.

I walked to the service desk, and things were going great for the first 10 minutes during the break I was covering. By great I mean, not a single customer walked up to the service desk.

As a matter of fact the only other people around was a female co-worker of Middle Eastern descent and her cousin. They were off to the side talking to each other, and I couldn’t understand what they were saying. However, I did notice that they began to focus their attention on me as they would occasionally glance at me and then begin to laugh to each other. I didn’t know what they were going on about, but I didn’t really care. I was just looking forward to getting off work.

Before my co-worker and her cousin began to leave, she turned to me and asked, “Hey Nick, are you Lebanese?” I stood there for a moment puzzled, wondering why this question had come up but before I could say anything she added, “This is my cousin, and she’s wanting to know if she can give you to her daughter.”

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At this point I was so confused the only words I managed to get out were, “I’m sorry. I’m half Mexican. I don’t think I can help you.” I don’t even know if that made sense at the time, but she and her cousin seemed to laugh about it and walk off.

After they left I realized they were just messing with me — OR. SO. I. THOUGHT.

Not but 47 seconds later her cousin reappears alone and walks right up to me. I asked, “Is there something I can help you with?”

“How old are you?” she asked.

“20”

She didn’t say another word. She just smiled at me and ran off to my co-worker to giggle about how I apparently had their approval. But did they have mine?

Fact or Fiction?

— Nick Alexander

Four Crossed Logs intern

professional communication major