Signage

Fernando is helping a customer one evening and goes to retrieve the movies she has requested. When he collects them and brings them to the counter, the woman says, “I just wanted to tell you that I love your sign.”

“Sign?” asks Fernando, “Which one?” Fernando has a number of signs proclaiming different things, for example the rules for his weekly drawing or his Name Your Price shelf, strewn throughout the store.

“That one.” She points at a printed notice affixed to the archway leading from the foyer at the front of the store to the area housing all the rental cases. The sign reads “THIS IS NOT A DAYCARE. KEEP YOUR CHILDREN UNDER CONTROL,” in crimson ink.

Fernando chuckles. “Oh, yeah. Thanks. Yeah, that one got put up after an unfortunate incident about a year and a half ago.”

The woman produces a dainty and nevertheless impressive snort. “You're telling me. I used to work for the state. You wouldn't believe the 'parenting' some of these kids had,” she says, utilizing the awesome power of air quotes in full.

“Definitely,” Fernando agrees. “One or two at a time are reasonable, but piles of kids tend to increase chaos exponentially instead of merely multiplicatively.”

The woman laughs. “So, what happened?”

Fernando sighs as he travels down a trite metaphor to recollect. “There were two different groups of kids in the store with their parents. At one point, they started wrestling among themselves. It ended with about two-thirds of the kids-slash-family section on the floor.”

The woman winces. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. Ouch. So, same day, I put up the sign because the parents just stood there while this was happening.”

“I could never have gotten away with that at my old job,” she says with regret.

Fernando barks a short laugh. “It's one of the perks of being your own boss. Sure, the signs aren't exactly professional quality, but I get to be my sarcastic self upon them. Makes it all worthwhile.”

The woman laughs again, gathers her movies, bids Fernando a good night, and departs.