“Wardrobe”

“Ok, everyone, listen up,” said the wardrobe lady. “I only want to say this one time.”

The small room in the basement of the church was overstuffed with too many people who were more interested in morning gossip than listening to instructions.

“If you’re going to the second location, don’t leave your personal belongings in the wardrobe bags. Take them with you.”

People continued chattering. A few shushes were heard, but it just made the talky-loos talk louder.

“People,” said the wardrobe lady, louder this time, “have I made myself clear?”

Right on cue, a middle-aged man with a blank expression on his face said, “what am I supposed to do with my clothes?”

“Are you going to the second location?” asked the wardrobe lady.

“Yeah, I think so,” said the man.

“You think so? You either are or you aren’t.”

“Yeah. Yes, I am.”

“Okay, so what did I just say?”

“You said something about taking personal belongings.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“What do I do with my clothes?”

The wardrobe lady sighed and put her hand up to her brow.

“Sir, do I have to explain what ‘personal belongings’ entail?”

The man glanced around the room, looking for anyone to back him up on this. The Chatty Cathys and Howling Harrys were paying no attention.

“Sir, if you’re going to the second location,” the wardrobe lady continued, “take all of your stuff with you.”

The man still had a blank expression on his face, still not understanding the instructions. He looked around the room again and sat down. He decided to let someone else clarify things for him.

The wardrobe lady stood up and walked to the door. She stopped and turned back to the crowd of people.

“Everyone clear on what they’re supposed to do?”

A few people looked up. An older lady raised her hand.

“Yes, ma’am?” said the wardrobe lady.

“What do I do with my jacket?”

“Are you going to the second location?”

“Yes, I think so.”

The wardrobe lady muttered “fuck this” to herself and turned and left the room.

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