I don't even know what to call this except let's just say it's cranky.

In times like this, we just have to smile and take a nice cleansing breath.

It is possible that the whole team has an issue of boundaries. Curious. Whilst I was at the STORE last night (those allcaps connote HINT OF IRRITATION, right?) one of my dogs climbed up on the kitchen table and was meandering around, dirty feet on the tablecloth. Looking for important paperwork to toothily shred no doubt. In full view of a human adult. Who is very capable of using the Voice of Non Benevolent Dictatorship which did indeed cause this small dog to instantly leap off of the table. But it was reported when I got home that it has no boundaries. This is possibly the same dog that, the other morning, whilst visiting our friends, crawled through some kind of rat crack in their fence, escaping to a neighbor's house. And pleaded the case starving stray dog to the nice neighbor, causing her to feed him 2 whole bowls of dog food before calling my number off his dog tag to have him rescued, one house away after an absence of 5 or so minutes. All the other dogs were happy to hang out in their lush and grassy backyard, but not Gustavo. No boundaries, no borders. It is all a frat party of joy and sloppy beer sloshing under the big lucite feet of the strippers.

So at the STORE last night, it was perfect to work on Boundaries. I was a customer, so I worked on customer service from the customer point of view. You know sometimes, it is crowded at the store, it is a tiny store, full of expensive foods with omega-3 flax and hemp and your grocery bag will total $40 no matter what you do? And in the crowds, perhaps the power is going off, causing cash registers to die. And in the crowds, perhaps they do not open extra cash registers in such a way that moves you up to a more great and powerful position in a shopping line. And in the crowds, perhaps a lady with bright pink hair except her bleachy roots and purple stripey leggings all a-sag has all her groceries in a jogging stroller fit for the hugest walrus baby ever even though she looks like an ancient haggard witch with a tie dyed head and has 2 rail thin teenagers with her that look as if their arms and were sewn on by blind crazy plastic surgeons and their necks are on weird angles? And no giant walrus baby. And in the crowds are hippie girls with flowing, molting thrift store coats and giant skirts with their little faces not yet grown to show any wrinkles of frowning framed by their fluffy snow hats? And they are all too close and yammering about the delicious pears and having patience and I am thinking bad, black thoughts to them then remember the customer service.

So to offer good customer service, from a customer point of view no less, I have to pretend I am not here in this tiny store where really all I needed was some salsa and the boundaries and borders are pressing on me too tight. Think about the good customer service how I could be working to improve the Boundary-less Dog's nose touch to make it sturdier and more substantial like that of Ruby who practically breaks hand bones of her love of a nose touch to hand. This before knowing what kind of boundaries he is pushing climbing around on a table and what kind I am using to keep my mouth shut when flowy skirt to the floor buying all the foods of health and flax and hemp and sweet potatoes asks me about how much do I love pears and I think for one second about customer service and my tongue stays right there in it's place, not flying off it's frying pan like sometimes it does just because I do hate all pears and also her and also everyone near but perhaps one day she will have her own border collie and lovingly teach it nose touches so I just smile. Wearily, and nowhere near Gen-u-ine, but, it is a little step of customer service.