Okay, Brian

Brian helped me yesterday at Eyemart. Brought me many frames, "tried to save me money," then apparently gave up on that part. When I made my frame choice and we sat to fill out forms, he told me much about himself.

1. He's 30.
2. He worked in an optical lab for five years, so he knows everything about glasses.
3. One day his boss needed him to help outside of the lab. The rest is, as we all know, history.
4. This may be his life's work, because he loves it.
5. He calls this place a golden cage. They pay him well, won't hear of letting him go, will do anything to keep him. Yes, he's that good. Or so he says.
6. He has a photographic memory. He remembers everything, even the names of people who have not been in for years. They are amazed when he can call them by name.
7. He is wonderful with people.
8. People come in and ask for him. They'll wait just so he can help them.
9. There was more, but, hey.

Okay, Brian. I found you pleasant enough. Helpful enough. I liked you well enough.

My glasses would be ready in three hours.

I went back. Brian saw me but did not call me by name, look like we were old friends, or even say, "I'll be with you in a minute."

Is it me? Or had his photographic memory run out of film?

Oh well. They were busy. I waited, and when Angelina came free, I did not ask for Brian. Instead, I handed her my receipt and paper work. She helped me. I found her to be every bit as pleasant and helpful as Brian.

1. I don't think Angelina is 30 yet.
2. She seems to know plenty about glasses.
3. She told me nothing of herself.

I have to go back today and get a different kind of nose piece on my new glasses. We shall see who helps me. Frankly, I don't care. I might ask for Angelina, though.