Icon by @ThatSpookyAgent. Call me Tir or Julian. 37. He/They. Queer. Twitter: @tirlaeyn. ao3: tirlaeyn. 18+ Only. Star Trek. The X-Files. Sandman. IwtV. OMFD. Definitionless in this Strict Atmosphere.
I’m on register at work:
~waits patiently behind counter with absent smile until a customer walks close enough and/or shows necessary amount of interest
~has a set script of prompts in my head to follow during transactions
~cheerful yet non-descript customer service voice and can repeat same exact tone infinitely.
~breaking from prompts or skipping through parts may cause minor glitches, such as accidentally repeating the same prompt again or completely skipping necessary ones
~absentmindedly tends to my area using the same five or so actions in a continuous loop until new person arrives
~Abnormally knowledgeable in my craft
~wears same outfit every day
~Nothing unusual phases me
~walking away and coming back is like a brand new interaction. I have little to no memory of you
This explains more than I’m comfortable with about my time as a receptionist.
You’re allowed to be excited about the little things. You’re allowed to be goofy. You’re allowed to be dorky about your favorite tv show, to make blanket forts, to enjoy cheesy movies, even just to sleep with stuffed animals. You’re allowed to do any of the things that make life a little more bearable. It’s fine, ok?