The Mirror Quietly Observes

No problem is a mystery to me, for it sounds fresh, disrespectful, rude, what happened to you are welcome? I do not care if it is a problem, do you? Access your memory banks, when did this begin? Sometime in the 90’s, I imagine. A constant reply to ‘thank you’ now. It is all I can do to keep my composure. Sitting here, watching these little waitresses walk away, their hair in a little cascade waterfall, bouncing along their confident backs. I am stuck on this 1970’s soiled flocked wall. They are lucky I have only eyes, no mouth or nose. They would be shocked to know what I am thinking for my capability for thought rivals any other gold-encrusted wall mirror I have yet to meet. I retain my composure, as the customers parade past, staring at me momentarily, to see what parts they are showing. It is a human habit to glimpse at me once, swiftly look away, and take a quick peek back into my soul. It might be a breach of etiquette, but I readily peek back, with zealous interest. Uh-oh, here comes the owner of this Pizza place, he is with his current dalliance. He thinks he has influence over his employees, as they transform into highly engaging beings upon his every once in a while arrival.