“Thank you for being a Birnax shopper -”
“And supporting a good cause with us,” Rahn cut in in his best sinister voice. He liked to do this, to repeat the ads that played over the sound system in a villainous style. He was caught by a customer doing this at least once a day, and yet he continued.
Rahn couldn’t say exactly what he liked about this, or what he found amusing; profitism was, of course, a sinister economic system, but he hoped there was something more to it than that.
The ad that had just finished was for a corporate charitable program Rahn was not entirely sure existed. The “Terminate Hunger, Terminate Waste Challenge” offered shoppers the option to round up their total to the nearest kringek “to terminate hunger in our local community,” but no particulars were outlined; and, what’s more, Rahn had not been offered the chance to participate in the program once since he had started working there months before.
Maybe they just don’t ask employees? he thought. And then we would forget until the next time they played the ad.
There were grueling ads for northwest kendibam; these stirred up older customers, irritated that they could not get local kendibam. “Here we are right in the heart of kendibam country, and you have it shipped in from Krmbli?”
The one about eternal stamps was a personal favorite. “They’re the only stamps you can buy now and use for all of eternity,” the ad cheerfully reminded customers.
Eternity? Really? All of eternity. What could that even purport to mean?
Kirdaxix, Rahn thought, pure kirdaxix, calling to mind the ancient Tlang myth. Girax beings thinking their stamps would last for eternity, when so little of it had happened yet.
“Irmanda, airfood manager, page me on 4127.” The store manager’s shrill voice rang out over the sound system, the worst of all its intrusions. At least it’s not me this time, thought Rahn, turning to the back stock of plirntz.