Pardon me while I blink and repeat that a few dozen times.

It shouldn't be that surprising. So what if she'd been there for thirteen years and knew her department like the back of her sampler-bespattered hand. Most of the other departments, too; no mean feat, that. And so what if she could take the sweatshop conditions in the back, inventory and all. And so what if she practically lived by that idiotic customer service creed. And so what if I'm biased because, to put it bluntly, I was fond of the woman, and she never received half the appreciation she deserved.

So what ad adfinitum. She was scattered, there's no denying it, wasn't above forgetting her age every now and then, but she acted according to the proper expectations and was very rarely out of her depth. They moved her without warning after September eleventh, having recently laid off, 'scuse me, released over a dozen others, yours truly included, not that I'm bitter. Point is, she must have been good enough, seeing as she stayed where they put her for months afterward. Heaven knows when they decided it wasn't quite enough.

The registers shouldn't matter that much, says I, for I know all. But the customer comes first and if you make a mistake there's no way of knowing they'll come back to seek your services. Shan't be seeking Hoa's anymore, anyway. She left crying. Celna didn't do the dirty work this time; apparently the cashiers' superior relishes this particular part of the job a great deal more.

Thirteen years is a long time. Maybe the superiors thought she could do with a change and decided to help her along. Right.

So, as I was saying, they fired crazy-wise Hoa.

Env. Sys. exam tomorrow, three-thirty to five-fifteen. But this is neither the time nor place (all right, maybe the place) to complain about the woes of transfer students.

Adieu.