No Hablo Ingles

As the title suggests, I really wish I could say that and people would believe me. I'm gonna go get a tanning membership right now. The company I work for is huge on newspaper advertisement. Who reads the newspaper these days? Mostly the aging elite that are holding fast in their stand against technology. The main feature with these people - diminishing eye sight. Fun stuff. They come in with their newspaper advertisements, having misread the name, price, and general function of the item that has caught their eye, then decide to ask me where it is. My response: "Move the paper you are holding and look down." Their next utterance, "Oh, these are them?" and my final reply, "The one's with the HUGE, BRIGHTLY colored tags that list the sale price? Yes, those are them." Never fails. I feel like I am Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. Haven't seen it? That's because you were probably barely born by the time in came out in the 80's. That just my movie fondness spilling over in to my writing, but I digress. The plot of the film is that Bill Murray has no soul, he is a well-known, wealthy public figure in the broadcasting industry (something I hope to be some day, but with a soul instead) that is forced to wake up to Groundhog Day in a small town every day, until he learns his moral lesson. I'm starting to fit that bill, my soul is hardening, but there is still some soft spots that might spread after Christmas.
I feel like I am repeating the same events every day at work, the same old people who forgot their glasses but still DROVE to the store. The clueless customers whose hands I have to hold and asses I have to wipe, and the customers who are waiting outside the door 20 minutes before we open. I have no answer for this cycle, except "No hablo ingles."