Brazil in da house
I live in the mouse ear wearing tourist capital of the world complete with two mind-bendingly scary outlet malls. Tourists from across the world flock to this city in hopes of meeting Mickey Mouse and buying everything and anything American in sight.
I work at one of the Brazilian hot spots for shopping at one of these outlet malls and nothing scares me more than driving into work and seeing a bus of Brazilians.
Brazilians are their own breed of customer at the outlets. They strike fear in the hearts of my fellow slaves and make us wish we could hide under a fixture of sweatshirts. They approach the following way:
Brazilian: My frienddddd , please please.
Slave: How can I help you? *Shit pleasing smile*
Brazilian: You speakA Spanish?
Slave: No, I’m sorry,
Brazilian: You speakA Portuguese?
Slave: No, I’m sorry.
Brazilian: Random fast Spanish dialogue
Slave: *Blinking* I don’t speak Spanish
Brazilian: You have this? *Forcing a print out of various items in your hand* Have descoooont?
Slave: Yes, follow me. *shows them the item*
Brazilian: Oh, no more descooooont?
Slave: No sorry the price is marked. *walks away*
Brazilian: *Pulls out one logo sweatshirt and lets the whole wall of them fall down then walks away. *
I honestly don’t think anything scares me as much as a bus-o-Brazilians. They really need to give out a shopping guide at the airports. “Welcome to America Here’s How to Shop!”
It would make life much better for me and my fellow outlet slaves……
--Outlet Mall Slave