It's nice to be nice... But do I have to?

Last night, as soon as we got home, Himself had to go to work again. I got to stay at home for a few extra hours before following him to the one and only music venue in our town.

Seems that we have nearly started a little family business; "Hire a guitar tech, get a merchandise person/doorman/extra pair of hands for free" (Hmmm.. Now there might just be something there...)

So I took the money and stamped more hands than I thought I'd ever see. I don't know how I didn't have any dreams about hands last night; There definitely was enough material for a whole movie! Pale, nearly blue hands; hands with dozens of bracelets (which cover stamps nicely and make the checking part of work ten times harder), nervous-looking hands... And a pair of older hands, with lacy arm warmers. Who says punk is dead?

This kept me entertained for a good part of the night. And suddenly things started to happen. Some people couldn't understand the concept of paying to see a gig, and tried to push their way in past me. See, when you reach a dizzying height of 5' 3", and try to do work normally associated with big guys with walkie-talkies, you get these people who think you won't try to stop them. Somehow I think they weren't expecting me. Oh, how I hate breaking people's dreams. (insert evil laugh here) Using my best voice (what I lack in height, I have in volume!) I gently pushed a group of ten people back a few steps. After that I didn't have any trouble with payments and got to enjoy the rest of the gig.

At the end I started to take down the shirts we had on display. Managed to get the last one into my hands just before I fell. And landed on one foot. And, of course, hurt my ankle. The funny thing about this was, I'd been drinking juice the whole night watching people around me get drunk. And yet, none of them got as much as a scratch. This nearly makes me believe in one of Himself's favourite sayings; "Trying to be good really doesn't pay off".

So here I am, nursing my poor ankle in the safety of my workplace. (At least I have a counter between myself and the customers...)
And I'm pretty certain, that the next time you see me doing the door or climbing after merchandise, I will have a nice pint of Guinness in front of me!