work day:

there's the normal business.

the normal projected sales.

the normal customers.

there's the normal day.

A few weeks ago, we adopted a new normal customer.

normal in the way that he comes in.

same way, therefore making it normal.

coming in the amount a normal customer would come in.

he's normal because he follows our signs direction and hands his bags to us to put away to our store's cubbies.

he shops around and picks up garments that he likes.

walks around with them.

he likes to nod his head and give compliments to the music we play.

he likes to squint his eyes and judge the clothing in our store, but in a way where the discussion is between him and the shirt. no prejudices against us for supplying that shirt.

he likes to take womens clothing, a pink long sleeve blouse, denim pants, and a set of pink high heels and put them next to each other, then back away and make a frame with his hands. He leans one shoulder back, squints one eye and compliments the outfit. Then adds how it needs one more thing.

he likes to wade around our counters and take pieces of paper and a pen to draw. draw the clothing that he picks out.

he exclaims remarks loud enough for the store to hear.

loud enough for me to hear him upstairs with my headphones on.

he wears the same yellow visor. the same mismatched shoes. khaki pants, blue shirt, and stained blue jacket. he had a different bag this time, but he still carried a racket in one of the bags.

he's carries on his face a mustache, with squinty looking eyes. he's on the pudgier side and walks around with two blue socks, which actually look like the ankle brace used for athletes.

he will roll right in, waddle for at least twenty minutes or more, then waddle out with the same amount he had came in with.

he's our new normal customer.