Troops of retail. I see them everywhere now. I can’t shake it, they stand out for me: women and men, but mostly women – walking, sitting, taking a caffeine sip, a nicotine puff, before the inevitable return to the smile from behind the counter.
All dressed in black. As if some supreme marketing wizard decided that customers will buy more from a person who looked funeral-bound. Wear black. Only black. Crisp black.
That’s not true – someone will say. I saw you: you wear an olive apron.
Indeed. I hide my real self underneath all that black and then, to make sure I am well hidden, I happily add on the apron.
Hidden from what? – you ask. Oh dear, let me think…