Are you there, God? It's an Underpaid, Gay Customer Service Rep.

As I've said before, being a greeter is a job that's not to be taken lightly. Especially when you're dealing with important customers in your business. You have to make sure their needs are all attended to and that they're happy with their visit to the establishment and plan on returning.

One day, a group of three nuns came to the movie theater to see "A Christmas Carol" in 3D. Maria and I were cleaning at the concessions counter when our walkie-talkies crackled to life with the voice of the greeter.

"Corey," the voice called for me in a sing-song way, "I have three elderly nuns that need an escort to the theater. Can you come down and help them?"

I looked at Maria and asked, "Why me?" I wondered first why I was singled out to help these women. Maria was just as capable of showing nuns where to go as I was. Also, Maria went to Catholic school and she (read: her family makes her) goes to church.

Then there's me, who lies with other men while taking the lord's name in vain.

I picked up the walkie-talkie and responded, "Okay, Amy, I'll be right down."

As I descended the escalator and made my way across the floor, I tried to visualize the possible scenarios awaiting me at the front door. I envisioned a gaggle of three, snarled, nasty Nuns. In my head, they wielded yard sticks. As I approached them in this reverie, they were able to smell the sin on me and whacked me upside the head. "Bad heathen! Bad sodomite! May you burn in Hell!" they would chant.

Turns out, I was wrong. They were actually really nice. Amy, the greeter brought me over to them and introduced us. The Nuns were clad in blue, unlike the scary black dresses I thought they'd be wearing.

"Hi!" the Head Nun cooed as she shook my hand. She introduced herself, her cohort, and then gestured to the Nun in the wheelchair. "This is Sister Nazarene! She has over 70 years of experience in the Nunnery!"

This statement made me think of what it would be like to be a virgin for almost 90 years. I thought 18 was bad. Oh, no. Sister Nazarene has it way worse. I wondered if she touches herself. Then I puked in my mouth a little because I started to think about old snatch.

Anyway, I grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Sister Nazarene through the halls and to the elevator which led up to the movie theater lobby. We had a lovely conversation on the way there.

"Where are you from, Corey?" Boss Nun asked me.

"Oh, just Framingham. Lived here most of my life."

"Are you going to school?"

"Yeah, I'm at Framingham State, studying film."

"Oh, how wonderful! Any plans after?"

"I want to go to law school."

"Well, we'll put you on our prayer list!" Boss Nun cooed.

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Oh yeah? Your prayer list?"

"Oh, yes! We always pray for those who help us, and everyone here has been so nice to us! Is there anything else you want? You should ask Sister Nazarene. She could pray for you!"

Sister Nazarene sat in her wheelchair, not saying a word. She barely moved or talked the whole time. I was afraid that she was dead, but still had to retain composure. I fought to keep a straight face, which I tend to have to do on a daily basis and said, "Oh, um, there's nothing I can think of right now, but thanks anyway."

"Just let us know! We'll pray for you," she insisted.

With that, the Nuns were on their way into the theater. I went back to Concessions, where Maria deservedly laughed at my tale.

"They put you on their prayer list?" she asked incredulously.

I had to imagine that their "prayer list" was a giant tome in which they write down people's names and desires. Having worked in a corporate retail environment for years, it seemed only plausible to write things down, file them away, and send them off to accounting for prompt follow-up.

"Corey used up all his wishes for the year," the Angel Accountant will announce as he stamps my application for a boyfriend with a big, red, "DENIED" stamp. "He can have mono instead."