Day Thirty Three

Update: Elvira

So weird. Elvira had her hair down in a loose ponytail and she cut long bangs. She still looked like her usual unhappy self except with a more feminine haircut. I complimented her hair in the break room and she became bashful about it. Elvira's version of "bashful" is where she grunts and waves her arm dismissively on the off chance that your compliment is sarcastic. She sat down across from me for the last five minutes of my break and inspected my lunch.

ELVIRA: What is that?
ME: It's gluten-free pasta, spinach and mushrooms tossed in an arrabiatta sauce.
ELVIRA: Ugh. Have to have meat.

She rolled her eyes at my vegetarian ways, but all of the old lady cashiers do. We chatted about cooking and and shared our favorite kinds of cooking. My forte is chicken curry, Elvira apparently makes a mean tortilla. She talks to me more nowadays and acts less grouchy, I am glad to say.

Jacob

Jacob is another one of the new employees. He is good looking, very tall and he has a booming deep voice that makes me want to hear him sing this:

I also noticed he had on a nice white belt that made our store's unattractive green t-shirt look like he wore it on purpose. I would try accessorizing but the ugly green t-shirt has an evil power that makes me not care about my appearance. Good looking gay guys like Jacob are immune to the powers of an ugly green t-shirt.

The Informant

It is summertime. The climate is good enough in some parts of the nation to bear fruits and vegetables I have never heard of or seen in person. A lady walked into my line with a basket of vegetables. After scanning a few items, I picked up this veggie that looked like a rejected sweet potato that somehow escaped the inspection trash can.

ME: Is this a sweet potato?
LADY: No, that is a yuca root.
ME: Oh! Okay, I have never seen one raw before. Thanks.
LADY: No problem. [she starting pulling items from the basket]
LADY: These are celery [she hands me the celery],
LADY: and this is kale [she hands me the kale],
LADY: avocado [she handed me the avocado],
LADY: green bell peppers, beets, romaine lettuce...

...and so on. She did this until her basket was empty. I knew all of the remaining items in her basket. Maybe she thought I was some college kid who only ordered pizza all of this time. Maybe she thought I was from a third world country and that the only food I knew was rice. Maybe she thought she was being helpful to a new employee. I was proud of myself for not telling the lady, "Shut the hell up, I know what an avocado is!" However, I made a point to stop any future customers from trying to educate me like she did.

Old Man #9


An old man came through my line. He had a lot of items and slowly began to place each item on the belt. I was about to help but another man walked  up and threw down a bag of coffee.

OLD MAN: Oh geez, I forgot.
SON: That's why I'm here, pop.
OLD MAN: That is the one thing we came here for.
SON: [laughs] Mom would be so mad if we forgot.
OLD MAN: You would have been blamed. I'm old and I am allowed to forget things.
SON: You're not allowed but you CAN get away with it better than I.

The son unloaded the rest of the cart for his dad and I kept listening to their conversation while I rang in items. They talked about family members coming to some dinner. They also chatted about the magazines, something about how Paula Deen may be skinnier but she still has that creepy smile. These guys had a fun bond.

SON: How are you, Miranda?

I was caught off guard and looked up. The son was classically handsome with a toothpaste commercial smile. He was so good looking that I don't think I responded right away. I eventually spoke.

ME: I'm good. Sorry! I was just listening to you guys talk! I love it when fathers and sons get along like you two.
OLD MAN: He is my favorite son.
SON: I'm his only son.

Loth in Tranthlation

An elderly lady walked up to me speaking Spanish. I couldn't understand a word she was saying (she was missing her two front teeth), her voice sounded like sandpaper and her Spanish was rapid. I constructed a sentence the best I could with, "No entiendo español cuando gente habla tan rapido." (I don't understand when people speak Spanish rapidly.)

She spoke again, much slower. I kept asking her to repeat, listening harder each time. I could tell she was frustrated but I was hell bent on helping her. I finally heard the words "flora" and "arroz". Bingo! Rice flour! I took her to the bulk section and we searched for her rice flour. When we found it she was so happy and relieved. I got a plastic bag for her and she got what she needed. I took her back to my register to check out and we conversed a little more.

From what I gathered, she is from El Salvador and had lived in the US for 33 years. She was finally trying to learn the native language after moving more north in Texas. "English is hard," she said (in English!). I laughed, proud of her. Proud of us both for meeting each other halfway.

Update: Copycat

Copycat is easily my best audience. Everything I say, funny or not, makes her laugh. We were both closing the store and she really wanted to make some of the closing announcements (15 minutes prior to close, 5 minutes prior, closing, then 5 minutes after). We split it up. She would do 15 and 5, I would handle closing. No customers were in the store five minutes prior to close so I was pretty excited we wouldn't have to wait around. I told Copycat that if someone came in at the last minute I would announce, "Attention customers, the time is now 10PM. Go home." She laughed, hard. I had never heard her laugh that much before. One customer did come in but didn't have a basket so I figured he would be leaving soon. He bought toilet paper and left right as closing time came around.

ME: It's 10pm! Closing announcement time!
COPYCAT: [picked up the phone before I did, and laughingly announced over the speakers] Attention customers, the time is now 10PM. GO HOME!

She put the phone down and laughed even harder than before. My jaw dropped. I wasn't actually going to say that. Our manager-on-duty, Emmy, was nice about it, thankfully. I told her it was my fault that Copycat did that and I assured her that our last customer left before the announcement (even though he probably heard it as he was leaving). I did get a mild scolding. Copycat has worked at this store for fours years and was probably going to work there for much longer. I didn't want her to get in trouble. As soon as I was sure that Copycat was safe, I finally laughed about it.

Observation: Copycat is highly impressionable.

Day Thirty Two

Update: Cake Eyes

I came into work lacking the usual amount of energy to give half of a damn.  I needed coffee. I found as many excuses as I could to return unwanted grocery items so that I could drink a ton of coffee samples. Everytime I left my register I got the stink-eye from Cake Eyes. I later observed her interactions with her customers. She was so sweet and personable. It seemed genuine. It didn't make sense that she hated me so much.

After her shift was over, Cake Eyes came through my line. She purchased two huge bottles of wine and some dog treats.

ME: Dog treats! What kind of dogs do you have?
CAKE EYES: Husky mixes.
ME: How pretty! I have mixes too.
CAKE EYES: What kind?
ME: A lab mix and a German shepherd mix. They were rescues.
CAKE EYES: Mine were adopted too. It is the right thing to do.

I handed her receipt over, she smiled and said goodbye. Did our bonding over dogs make her hate me less? Could this be peace at last? I sure hope so.

Miranda & the Gang

An elderly lady came through my line with three young girls. The oldest of the little girls moved ahead of her sisters to stand infront of me. She pointed at my name tag.

LITTLE GIRL: My name is Miranda too!
ME:  [Gasp!] That means you are also awesome!
MIRANDA: Uh huh! [she nodded]

I asked the usual round of questions I ask little kids in the summer. What grade are you in? Do you miss school? What's your favorite subject? What is the most fun thing you have done all summer? While they talked I noticed Miranda's freckles. What an adorable kid! She could land her own Disney show if she wanted.

ME: I love your freckles!
[Miranda sinks, her smile disappeared]
GRANDMOTHER: She doesn't like her freckles.
ME: Pish posh!  Freckles are the stars in the sky that fall to rest on your face! I WISH I had freckles like that!
[Miranda smiles again, shyly]
GRANDMOTHER: [in a whisper] Thank you!

I hope this little girl one day understands how pretty those freckles are. That goes for all kids with freckles. I get freckles of sorts every now and then but they are not the cute kind.

Crazy Red Head Vegan

CRV is sad...again.

I had a boost of energy from drinking a ton of coffee samples, which may have added up to a few ounces past insomnia. Having decided to use this extra energy to cheer CRV up, I walked over to bag her customer's groceries. I made a huge deal out of everything she handed me.

ME: Hold the phone...are these THE Sprouts dried cranberries?
ME: Chocolate covered banana chips?! Shut the front door!
CRV: You're a silly girl.

A half smile. Success. O.C. Daisy was working nearby and she grumbled something to CRV about some code or protocol. I was not paying attention since I tend to zone out when OCD speaks ogre. CRV's frown returned.

ME: Don't let her bother you. [I pointed to OCD, who's back was turned at the moment] It is a curse to be like her, do you understand? A curse.
[CRV nods]
ME: Let her be like that. [I made a showcasing gesture, ala Vanna White] Be happy that you are nothing like this.

CRV agreed. She resumed her work in what seemed to be a better mood. My work here was done.

Gaythan

One of the new cashiers that OCD trained the other day introduced himself to me. His name was Nathan. He used to be a manager at a Food Lion in Virginia. Everything he said began with, "When I worked at Food Lion...(bla bla bla)" That is what people do when transfer from another place (same with people in new jobs and new schools) The repetitive nature of that kind of phrase often goes unnoticed by the storyteller. Food Lion tales aside, Nathan seemed like a cool guy and he was very cute. He was, as Karen Walker from Will & Grace would say, "Gayer than a clutch purse at the Tony Awards,"  and he became very comfortable with me very quickly. I do love the gays. We will be sure to check out guys together.

Regifter-in-law

ME: Hi! How is your day going?
WOMAN: [sigh]
ME: That good, huh?
WOMAN: I have to cook dinner for my husband's mother.
ME: Ah, classic 'in-law' tension.
WOMAN: She hates me.
ME: That can't be true.
WOMAN: She got a free robe from a spa she went to and gave it to me for Christmas, after she had already shown me the robe before.
ME: Yikes. Her gifts to other people?
WOMAN: Thoughtful.
ME: Unacceptable. If I despised my daughter-in-law, I would never send her a regift. I may not spend much on her, but I wouldn't regift. That is rude on too obvious a level. I wouldn't want my family to actually KNOW I hated her.

I realized those words were not comforting. I urged her to drink a glass of wine before her mother-in-law arrived. She went to the back of the store to grab a cabernet sauvignon.

Old Man #8

ME: Hi there!
OLD MAN: No I'm not!

Richard Gere: Part Two

Richard Gere came into my line. YESSS....

RG: Hello!
ME: Hi! How are you doing today?
RG: Good. Just buying more vegetables. I'm doing a juice fast.
ME: Healthy.
RG: Trying to be.

So far so good.

RG: So, do you...do you play the trumpet?

...and STOP. How the fuck does this guy know that I play the trumpet?! I didn't respond right away.

ME: Uh...
RG: Do you know Lisa?
ME: Oh my god. Tom!
RG: Yeah, it's me!
ME: I played trumpet and sang at your wedding! I didn't recognize you at all! (They divorced a year ago)
RG: Yeah, well my hair is grey.
ME: The beard is gone too, huh?
RG: Yeah. Do you talk to Lisa anymore?
ME: No. (That was a lie)
RG: Melody?
ME: I don't keep in touch with any of those girls anymore. (Also a lie)
RG: Oh well. It's good to see you, I'll see you around!
ME: Yeah! Take care!

Tom walked away as I held back my vomit. Tom was married to my friend Lisa for several years. Toward the end of their marriage Lisa found out that Tom was soliciting sex to strangers and prostitutes. She found emails. It was horrifying. She had to undergo tests to make sure she didn't have a disease. I can't imagine how much therapy this whole thing required. This man that she thought was the love of her life was SCUM. It was such a horrible ordeal and here this guy is, acting like he doesn't know who I am when he knew EXACTLY who I was. I had visited the home of him and his ex-wife tons of times in the past and I look exactly the same as when he last saw me those years ago. I later found out that he had been trying to contact Lisa, trying to find excuses to see her. I am SO glad I lied. Gross.


Update: Banshee

I noticed that OCD was called into the office with our general manager for a meeting. I wondered what it was and I was scared that it involved promotion. Banshee later informed me that employees had started complaining to the GM about the older lady cashiers ruining everyone's employment experience with their grumbling and old lady ways. Specifically, they were making the younger employees feel uncomfortable by insulting fellow co-workers on a regular basis. That is why OCD was called in. Apparently, Cake Eyes was called out by our GM in a similar meeting earlier that day.

Banshee had instilled a new "No Shit Talking" rule. If any employees are caught talking shit about a fellow employee, they are to be reported. The infraction will result in an instant write up.

Ah...JUSTICE.

Day Thirty One

Stingwich Reconn. #3

Before my shift began I stopped by the break room to drop off a salad in the fridge. Elvira was in there, eating a sandwich. I asked her if she had heard of any recent lunch robbery. She told me her lunch was stolen the previous week. She had to buy food and that was tough for her since she had just moved to a new apartment with her son. Money was tight. I felt bad for her.


No more reconnaissance, it's go time.

I went to my register and talked about the lunch thief with O.C.Daisy (now in a foot brace). I told her that I planned to buy sandwich materials and Ex-Lax after work to make a stingwich. She totally dug the idea. We brainstormed ways of covering up the laxative by means of crushing or grinding the drug. Daisy said I should make different types of sandwiches and use different containers. This was the best conversation that she and I had ever had. She was being really nice and wasn't full of bitterness like she usually is. Maybe there is a chance for friendship here.


Richard Gere: Part One

So, this song comes on:

I was tired enough to be goofy enough to start busting a move in front of the registers. I was also too tired and goofy to realize anyone else might be watching. From around the corner came an older female customer who decided to join me in the dance. She was ready to check out so I pulled her cart into my line while doing some dance move that could only be described as a slow motion seizure. When I turned around to face my customer, who was having a great time, I noticed I had another spectator: A younger version of Richard Gere dressed in medical scrubs, holding a basket full of vegetables. He smiled at me.


Heart: melted.

I told my customer, who kept grooving, to check out the guy who looks like Richard Gere in the register behind her. She inconspicuously walked over to his register, pretending to choose a magazine she wanted to buy. After checking the guy out, she walked back to me.

WOMAN: [handing me the magazine] No wedding ring and you're right, he does look like Richard Gere. He also looks good in those scrubs.
ME: Right? Doctor, I'm HURTIN'.
WOMAN: Yeah, we need mouth to mouth here.

I couldn't have asked for a better person/wingman to have this inappropriate conversation with. I saw him walking away after purchasing his vegetables and I wondered why I had not ever seen him here before. Maybe he is back from vacationing for half of the summer. Maybe he is one of those Doctors Without Borders. He came home and needed to fill his fridge with vegetables because he is an animal loving vegan. The version of this guy I have created in my head is quite the catch.

Maybe one day he will see past my ugly green t-shirt and carry me out of the store like this:

O.C.Daisy, Klepto Sue and Nil, The Girl Whose Name We Can't Pronounce

I found out why O.C.Daisy was being so nice earlier in my shift. She was given some head cashier duties for the day and was training two new employees. It was amazing to watch her be nauseatingly fake nice to the new people.

I was approached by a fellow cashier/grocery worker named...well I can't ever pronounce it...I'll call her Nil for now. Nil joined me in witnessing the spectacle of O.C.D.'s aspartame demeanor and I found out that she knew one of the new trainees. Apparently the new girl, Sue, used to work at another health food store in Denton, TX called The Cupboard, and she was fired for showing up late and for participating in a situation involving theft. Nil was a coworker of Sue at The Cupboard and was adamant in her refusal to be a reference on Klepto Sue's application. Nil is a cool, honest, sincere and hard working person, she didn't strike me as a gossip or a liar so I believed her. Klepto Sue later came over to help me bag groceries when the lines died down. She was friendly and personable but I remained leery.

I needed Daisy to swipe her card and enter code on my register for a return. The whole time she stood there, she grumbled about how Crazy Red Head Vegan had not come back from a break and I don't remember what else. I have begun to tune O.C.D. out as soon as she starts talking shit about others. As soon as she walked back to her trainees it was all half-toothed smiles and "Hiiii darlin'!" Ridiculous.

Update: Crazy Red-Head Vegan

It turned out that CRV took longer than a 15 minute break because she is having ANOTHER bad day. She began to tell me a sob story about how the love of her life has been deployed.

ME: Your boyfriend is in the military? Which branch?
CRV: He is not my boyfriend, he is in the Navy.
ME: Oh, so this is a guy you like? What about your boyfriend?
CRV: We broke up.
ME: Again?
CRV: We didn't really get back togeth-bla bla bla bla bla bla...

She kept talking and I stopped listening. She may have said something about writing letters. I don't know, I don't care. I don't give a shit about her drama anymore.

Petty Duke

A guy from the produce section came up front to notify one of our managers that there was a woman sampling one grape from each of the bags of grapes. All of the cashiers looked to the back of the store and surely enough, there she was, still plucking grapes. Daisy walked back to tell her that she can't do that. We all went back to doing our jobs but then a guy from the bulk section caught my attention. Petty Duke had made her way from the produce section to the bulk section. She stuck her hand in nearly half the bins she walked by, sampling nuts, dried fruits and candy.

There is a fine line between sampling and stealing and Petty Duke was crossing it. Our store allows sampling in the bulk section, but customers are supposed to ask bulk section workers for assistance. O.C.D. went up to her again and told Petty Duke to stop. I tried to figure out whether this woman was underprivileged or cheap. It was more likely to be the latter. She ended up buying a lot of food at Klepto Sue's register. How perfect.

Day Thirty

Old Lady # 8

A sweet old lady walked into my check out lane with her husband. As the husband unloaded groceries the old lady asked me how my morning was going. I replied, "So far, so good." I told her how had woken up early, walked the dogs, harvested some tomatoes, ate a good breakfast, did some chores and did a little bit of singing before coming to work.

OLD LADY: [in a gritty voice] Singing?! I used to love singing. I loved it. What voice are you?
ME: Believe it or not, [I said in my low voice] I am a soprano.
OLD LADY: Really! I was an alto. I was in my school's glee club and I would sing everywhere I go. Everywhere. It would drive him nuts. [pointing at husband]
ME: Do you still sing anywhere?
OLD LADY: I sang for a little bit in church, but it didn't last too long. I ruined my voice. I had to quit from smoking too much. [she then gave me a stern look] Do you smoke?
ME: No.
OLD LADY: [pointing her finger at my face] Good. Don't do it. Don't even start. You'll ruin your voice.

I felt bad for the old lady. When she talked about how she used to sing, it was with the bittersweet affection one would have when speaking of a lost love. Her voice, filled with regret, sounded like sandpaper being rubber against wood. I do have a couple of singer friends who smoke that are currently doing alright, so I wondered if this old lady just smoked several packs a day. Maybe to the point of almost eating the cigarettes? I heeded her warning, but I am also allergic to cigarette smoke so knew this would not be a problem for me. The couple paid for their groceries but before she left I had to ask this lady one last question.

ME: What was your favorite song to sing? [I handed her the receipt]
OLD LADY: [she smiled from the fond memory of her response] The Hallelujah Chorus. [taking the receipt and squeezing my hand] Have a wonderful day.

Buffalo Lady

It was busy for a moment in the store so my line was backed up. While checking out a customer, I heard a lady down my line talking to a girl  in front of her. The string of enthusiastically told, unrelated conversational topics was unmistakable. I looked up to see Buffalo Lady, smiling as usual. I kept an eye on the teenage girl in front of her, praying that she would be kind and thankfully she was. Eventually it was Buffalo Lady's turn to check out. I was totally ready for this.

BUFFALO LADY: Hellllllllo!!! You know, I once met a lady who the most beautiful long black hair. I asked her where she came from and she said that she came from [she paused for suspense, then with eyes wide open]...BANGLADESH!
ME: Ooh! Isn't that something?
BUFFALO LADY: Let me tell YOU something. My cat loves to eat my dinner food. I don't know why I buy her food at all! [slamming counter for emphasis]
ME: My dad used to feed my cat rice with a little bit of beef curry when I was a kid.
BUFFALO LADY: Did you know that chili peppers are hotter when they are smaller? I bought the wrong size and I was crying when I ate it! I'm telling ya, freezers are only cold when the door stays closed!
ME: Ice is always cold. Go for the ice.

I handed her a receipt and she waved goodbye before leaving. I wish I could have let her keep talking. Maybe next time when it is less busy I will let Buffalo Lady cut loose.

Old Man #7

Another old couple walked into my line. Once it was time to pay, the old man, who looked like Carl Reiner,  frowned at the credit card reader.

ME: Hit the green button if you want to pay with credit.
OLD MAN: I can't read it. I can't see anything on this darn thing! [He lightly backhanded the reader]
OLD LADY: Take off your sunglasses, dear.

Roz

Roz isn't a far cry from the Monster, Inc. character of the same name.

Roz is our bookkeeper. She stays in a locked office counting money all day long and wears a sweatshirt with the company logo on it. She smells funny and seems grouchy all of the time. Not necessarily mean, but grouchy. I used to call Roz every morning to find out when my shift started. I usually check the schedule for the next day whenever I countdown my till at the end of a shift but sometimes I forget to look. When that happens, I wake up at 7am and give Roz a call. At first, I thought she was cool with this. After once calling three days in a row for my schedule, Roz finally griped at me.


ROZ: Miranda! You need to copy down your stinkin' schedule! I don't have time for this.

Okay, damn...I made sure to never call Roz ever again after that. I copied my schedule or took pictures of it with my phone. Today, Roz stepped out of her office and looked at me.

ROZ: Miranda? You didn't call today. How did you find out when your shift started? [she smiled]

First of all, I wasn't aware that Roz could smile. Second, was Roz being funny?

MIRANDA: I took a wild guess?
ROZ: [she turned to Cake Eyes] Miranda didn't call today.
MIRANDA: I'm sorry, I will make sure I call you every morning from now on.
ROZ: [smile now gone] You better not.

Funny Roz went back into her office. Perhaps she is more than an old grouch. Maybe she has an interesting story to tell.

Stingwich Reconn. #2

I still had plans to take down the sandwich thief. I learned that the sandwich thief not only stole sandwiches but other food items as well. Everything except vegetables was at risk for being robbed from the break room fridge. I also had recently gathered information on a couple of suspects. One of them was one of the guys who worked in the bulk section. I had caught him a couple times reaching into the bulk bins to grab a quick snack, an activity that can only be best described as "grazing". Bulk Boy came into my line to purchase, of all things, a sandwich. I read the label: roast beef. So sandwich thief may have bought his sandwich today. Has he turned a new leaf? Has he reformed or do I have the wrong guy? There IS also Jay from the meat department. He never buys anything and never brings in a lunch. Jay also looks like he doesn't give a shit about some random person going hungry due to a stolen lunch. Just a hunch.

Update: Cute Guy, Maybe (Not Really)

It had been weeks since I had seen Cute Guy so I asked Patti what the deal was. Apparently CG got called into the office for being late everyday. It wasn't just that, he always had a bad attitude and took really long breaks. Our general manager just tried to address this to him, not necessarily fire him for it. This is darn near the most difficult place to be fired from your job. CG didn't feel like being reprimanded, I suppose, because he decided to quit.

It is possible that CG is just a brat but I don't think that is what it is. I thought about how his mom died recently. He was living here in Texas because his mom lived here. His dad, the president of our company, lives on the West Coast. He has no reason or means to stay in Texas unless he is getting an allowance from his rich dad. I hope he is okay, wherever he is.

Restraint

A woman was unloading groceries on the belt and when she wasn't looking, her son picked up a carton of eggs out of the grocery cart.

WOMAN: [to her son] Put that back, NOW. You drop those eggs and I will MURDER you. Do you hear me? [the boy didn't put down the eggs, so she walked over and slapped her son on the arm, taking the eggs out of his hands]

I was so disgusted. Her son was mentally retarded. How could this woman be so acidic and say such a horrible, unloving thing? I didn't know what to say. Eventually that carton of eggs was in my hands. I wanted to hurl the eggs at this woman's face, but they made it into a plastic bag instead.

I gave her no eye contact for the rest of the transaction. Instead, I tried to smile at her son but he never looked at me, his eyes remained pointed to the floor. My heart sank. I wondered if his mom was always like this. Was this how she was raised? Did her mom or dad use death threats in lieu of simple commands? Was she mad that she was dealt this card? She was clearly not capable of learning the right things from having such a wonderful kid. I bet it is difficult, but there is no excuse for talking to a kid like that.

I didn't hand her the receipt, I just put it down somewhat within her reach. I didn't say goodbye or wish her a nice day. I just silently wished that she would become a better human being.

Day Twenty Nine

Zombie Sunday

After hours of working at the church this morning I made my way to the store to start my shift as a cashier. I forgot how much I used to look forward to a nap on Sunday afternoons. Waking up four hours before I sing, singing one or two services, being pleasant, friendly and helpful to everyone I meet and then busting ass trying to prepare a season of music for a choir...there is no amount of coffee that can keep me going after that. I stopped by the local Starbucks and get a latte anyway. I would hate for any of my customers to be a victim of my sleep deprived wrath. The latte ended up not helping. Maybe the Starbucks baristas were out to sabotage me by slipping me a decaf...

...monsters.

Emmy

I decided to give our manager, Emmy, a month's notice that I was going to quit. Upon hearing that I was going to be a trumpet prof. her eyes lit up. Apparently, Emmy also plays the trumpet. She played from middle school to high school, "Seven years total," she said with pride. She has a family full of instrumentalists. They get together at Christmastime and play carols.

EMMY: We have to play trumpet together sometime!! Do you know Johnny Be Good?
ME: Not really.
EMMY: [GASP] You don't know JOHNNY BE GOOD!?! [she proceeds to sing the trumpet part from, no doubt, an old marching band arrangement, pretending to hold up a trumpet] I still have my lyre that I used to read music from!

I didn't feel like telling her that I could play or transcribe any melody by ear. I didn't feel like telling her I mostly play classical and jazz music on a considerably more advanced level than that. At first I thought she couldn't differentiate the professional from the amateur, but I still couldn't bring myself to educate her.

EMMY: We SO have to play trumpet together. We'll play Johnny Be Good.
ME: Sure!

I truly do not believe that Emmy thinks the dichotomy in musical ability lies in whether you can play Johnny Be Good or not. I think she was just excited that we have a love of playing trumpet in common. After all, she plays for fun and I admire anyone who plays for fun, young or old. Playing a musical instrument is a special, wonderful thing to be able to do, no matter the ability level.

Updates:

J.V. continues to improve socially. Today we had a pleasant conversation about how tired I am.

I had a customer walk up who was wearing a military dog tag. Banshee was standing nearby. We talked about this customer's grandfather's service in WWII. Pretty cool. After he left I turned to Banshee and told her I have a dog tag on which I have been wanting to engrave the phrase, "Keep your feet on the ground, when your head is in the clouds." I want this phrase or a similar phrase engraved in a French translation because I think French is a beautiful language. She told me she studied French for years and would help me find a translation. Lately Banshee has become more fun. She still yells in an unpleasant fashion and I almost always wish I had a pair of earplugs whenever she pages anyone. She is starting to look pregnant again and maybe she is in a happy mood because of that. I dare not actually ask her if she's pregnant. Most pregnant women don't want to talk about pregnancy until they are ready to announce it. Sometimes they are not actually pregnant.

I found that a lot of people can't stand Copycat. People try to talk shit about her to me but I will never hear it. It seems that almost none of my coworkers have the patience to work alongside someone with autism. She has become more brave. Now she stops by everyone's till to wave goodbye, not just mine. Half the time she will say bye, wave and stay there at your till until you stop, look right back at her and say, "Goodbye Cat! Have a great evening!" Sometimes, she will then again say goodbye and you just have to stop and say goodbye to her again. This is not hard. I will seriously bite off the head of the next person who complains about her to me.

Apparently Crazy Red Head Vegan did not break up with her boyfriend.

CRV: My boyfriend and I went down to Dallas last night.
ME: Whoa, whoa, whoa...You're back together with him?
CRV: Yeah, I don't think we actually ever broke up.
ME: What...

I thought of all of the energy I spent trying to cheer her up or cover for her that one day she told me they split up. I felt highly annoyed as I do whenever I am the irrational bitch friend who consoles any of my freshly dumped, low self esteemed friends with wine, chocolate, kleenex and the general recovery slogan, "Fuck that guy, he's an asshole!"--only to find that they run back to the dickhead days later. From that point on, I made a point to never invest much of my mind or ear to CRV's drama. She later talked about her mother, about how she sits at home all day and does nothing, about how with her dad, she gives her mom tons of money and all she does is online shop. The mom doesn't help clean or cook and doesn't have a job. I didn't care. A lot of CRV's stories are sounding like tall tales and exaggerations.

Last but not least, I heard that O.C.Daisy possibly broke her foot. I can't say I feel sorry for her. I'm sure her foot hurts, but I was happy that I wouldn't have to see her for several days. It's hard to feel bad for or support someone who is mean to you. I was too tired to be a better person.

Day Twenty Eight

Update: Ghost Protocol

My favorite Jeremy Renner doppelganger was walking toward my line. Normally this would have set off the girly giggles in me but this time he was toting around more than his groceries. He had a beautiful Asian girlfriend with him. I would say "bummer" but again, there wouldn't have been a Taylor Swift love song to be written here in the first place. I wear an unflattering T-shirt at work and my hair has to be tied up. Why not go the whole nine yards and throw a net on my head so I can look like one of those perpetually bitter cafeteria ladies from my elementary school days? I digress.

I observed GP and his girlfriend. They didn't talk much, to me or to each other. They were the kind of couple that doesn't show any PDA. They both looked down the whole time. GP wasn't cordial like he was last time and the girlfriend stood aside while he packed the cart. Maybe GP doesn't want her to ruin her delicate hands. Maybe they were having a rough day. Maybe they are just a quiet beautiful couple. Ok, fine. I'll say it.

Bummer.

The Haters

A woman was about to wheel her cart into my empty line when her husband abruptly halted her and told her to go one line over, into O.C.Daisy's line where they would have to wait. I was baffled. I wondered if they were friends of Daisy or one of her regulars. I turned around and looked at them.

ME: Are you all having a good day?
MAN: We're fine. Thank you.

Hostility check, clear...but he spoke with a smidge of disdain. After they left I asked Daisy if she knew them. She said she didn't. I wondered why they chose to leave my line. Maybe I gave them bad service once. Maybe I forgot to hand them one of their bags that contained an important ingredient for the woman's cherry rhubarb pie recipe. Maybe that one incident alone ruined a very important dinner. Perhaps they like to get their groceries checked by a toothless old hag with bad hair. If that's the case then I totally get it. That's how I prefer my Waffle House waitresses to look.

Old Lady #7

It had been a while since an entertaining old person had walked into my line. This sassy old lady was fully clad in a track suit and matching sneakers capped off with a sun visor. She had a bunch of bulk items and like many others had forgotten the codes, but instead of watching me try to find the codes in our code book she apologized then darted off with impressive speed to the bulk section. I looked back to her with the annoyed faces of the customers waiting behind her in my peripheral. She was barely tall enough for me to see her. I then heard her shouting at the top of her lungs.

OLD LADY: DARK CHOCOLATE CHERRIES-6790!! [she walked to another item] FRIED OKRA-6110!! [and again moved to another item] CRANBERRIES-6248!!

This carried on until I scanned all 8 of her bulk items with uncontrollable laughter. She power walked back to me and said:

OLD LADY: See? We just need to work together, like on Sesame Street.

The I in Insecure

An Indian couple came into my line and after dropping their groceries off on the belt they stared at my face with inspection.

INDIAN MAN: Are you George's daughter?

I froze.

ME: Yes I am.
INDIAN MAN: We saw you direct the band last year. They were great!

I gathered that they went to church with my parents. I helped form a praise and worship band with some of the teenagers from that church for an inter-parish music competition. A competition I despised, but I was getting paid to teach them, so whatevs. All beside the point.

INDIAN MAN: Do you work here part time?
ME: Only for the next month. I got a job as an adjunct faculty member for a University and I will also be starting a job working as a choral director for a church in the same town. I finished my doctoral coursework in May. I needed something to do, you know?
INDIAN MAN: Right. Wow! Congratulations and good luck!

That was mostly the truth, but not the whole truth. I felt like such a loser for feeling the need to talk like that. I needed to work a summer job to earn money, pay bills and be able to go out and have a good time every now and then. I needed income to fill the gap between the end of my private teaching last May and the beginning of my new professional positions as an adjunct faculty member for a University and a choral director for a church in August. I was grateful for this current job. I needed it.

I have an insecure knee jerk reaction to Indian people inquiring why I am working a non-professional job at my age. Where many others are medical doctors, nurses, I.T. people, engineers, (you know, Indian people jobs) etc., I am finishing up schooling for what has been so far (and will always continue to be) an incredibly long journey of being a professional musician and teacher. This is a profession my parents refused to let me do at first. This is a profession that, when my brother went to school for Bassoon performance, some older Indian people from my parents' church laughed at him and said, "What are you going to do with THAT?" Even members of my extended family thought my parents were crazy for letting us go into music.

I guess I just wanted to let this Indian couple know that my parents didn't make a mistake in letting me pursue my dreams, that you can be successful in doing what you love. I wish I had the guts to just tell them the truth of the matter but I was afraid of judgement, afraid of how they would view my parents. I wish I had given this couple a chance to show me that they know better. Maybe next time.

Update: The Infamous Patti

Patti looked so sad today. She was sweet and kind as usual, but I could tell she was distracted. Once my shift was over she counted down my till in the office. I asked her if she was okay. She said, "No." Apparently her niece's apartment burned down to the ground. Her niece had stopped renter's insurance because she was laid off months ago. All of her belongings, destroyed, and not be replaced. Her nephew was then visiting her niece and staying over for a job interview he had in that town and many of his belongings went down in the fire as well.  Patti's niece is now staying with her parents, in the same house Patti is staying in. Patti gave her niece a ton of money to get back on her feet.

This woman has been through so much in the past year and yet she still manages to be the nicest person at this store. She has shown me that none of us really have a good excuse to be anything but kind. Sometimes it requires a tremendous amount of strength, but it is always possible.

Day Twenty Seven

Employee Depreciation Day

I had seen flyers about "Employee Appreciation Day" for a week now. There were going to be drawings, contests and food all day long. I was pretty stoked. I got to work at 4pm, only to find that all of the contests were over. Apparently Crazy Red-Head Vegan won a $25 gift card to Macaroni Grill. I went to the back room where I was told all of the food was located. All that was left was meat and cake. As a vegan, I was pretty bummed to see this. I didn't make my lunch because I thought I would somehow get fed. I grabbed a bottle of water and went up front to start my shift.


I can't believe how mad this made me. I couldn't be joyful in front of my customers, I couldn't even fake it. The flyers should have had a byline:

"Employee Appreciation Day: Unless you show up at 4pm and don't eat meat, hippie."

In a nutshell, the management was saying, "We appreciate the asshole who steals lunches from the break room more than we appreciate you, Miranda." The one girl who has celiac disease was covered because she made noise about it. Apparently she was the mad person last year. They provided her with gluten free hamburger buns.

I was the mad one this year. In addition to the appreciation day faux pas, every little irksome thing would disappoint me. Head cashiers would forget to put me on break and after many failed  attempts to give them the "stink eye" I would just let myself on breaks. My customers and CRV tried to cheer me up but it was useless. CRV would have been as mad as I was if she didn't win that gift card.

It didn't make sense that I would be so angry. After all, my family's gatherings are a parade of cows and chickens and I never get mad at my relatives for being insensitive to my diet. I tried to figure out if something else was going wrong in my life or if I just need a break. Whatever it was, I was unhappy. I could do no better than be slightly melancholy but cordial toward the people who came in my line.

Victim #1

Yes, victims. I felt like all of my customers were victims of my sad service. I'm sure whatever these people did would have been blown off or otherwise gone unnoticed.

Along came a woman who stepped into my line. Just as I was about to grab her first item, another customer walked up to ask me a question. Since I paused to help the inquiring shopper, my current customer picked up her things and moved over to the next line, where she waited behind one customer. This little incident had me fuming like this guy:

Seriously? She couldn't wait 30 seconds?! In the time it took this woman to get through her new line, three customers flew through my line. With every single one of them I made sure to address how busy it is in the store and how great they were for being so chill about it. I said, "THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT," blatantly louder and louder with each new person. I was so obnoxious. I'm not proud of it.

Victim #2

A man walked up with a few items that my bagger placed in his reusable bag once I scanned them.


MAN: Dang, do you hate chicken or somethin'?

I stopped. I just realized was tossing all of his food items to the end of my counter. I looked to the right, over at his chicken, it was such a sad sight. It laid there, face down, more beaten and lifeless than it already was. I just then recalled the loud SLAP the chicken had just made against the surface.

ME: Oh my god, I am so sorry.
MAN: I was about to say...
ME: I can get you another chicken. I'm so sorry.
MAN: Bad day?

I admitted that I was in a mood. I apologized a million more times and he was forgiving. We eventually were laughing about it. He got me to laugh at myself a little. I appreciated that.

Sweetheart

I was jotting down notes on how much I hated my day as my next customer walked up. I kept writing as she put groceries up on the belt. I saw a divider go up and out of the corner of my eye, I saw this woman's little daughter put some candy in the front of the belt.


DAUGHTER: I'm sorry I didn't bring my money.

I stopped writing. I looked up. This little girl had as much remorse on her face as she had in her voice.

MOTHER: It's alright sweetheart, you can pay next time.
ME: Does she usually pay for her sweets?
MOTHER: She likes to earn money and spend what she earns.

I felt my spirits lifting. What an angel. As the receipt printed, I gave a lollipop to the girl, who was chewing on the sweets her mom bought for her.

MOTHER: Aw, isn't that nice? What do you say, sweetheart?
[she didn't respond, because she was chewing]
ME: It's okay, she's chewing and doesn't want to talk with her mouth full.
DAUGHTER: [finally done chewing] Thank you. [she smiled, then popped another piece of candy in her mouth]
ME: You know what? I think you are the best human being I have met all day.
DAUGHTER: [chewed for a while (again), then after she swallowed her candy she laughed and spoke] Thank you.

I laughed, so thankful for this little person.

Physicist

It was enough of a blessing seeing Sweetheart, but along came another gem. This young boy was begging his mom for a National Geographic magazine.

MOM: Fine, you can have it but it is coming out of your allowance.
BOY: Yesssssssssssss.

If this was any ordinary kid begging for candy, I might have been annoyed but I found this adorable.

ME: Are you really interested in science?
BOY: Uh huh!
MOM: He LOVES science.
ME: What is your favorite science? [the boy had his head dug into the magazine already and he wasn't paying full attention]
MOTHER: He LOVES physics.
ME: Physics, huh? [the boy nodded enthusiastically] What do you want to be when you grow up?
BOY: A physicist! [I should have known he would say that]
ME: Ha! What kind?

He shrugged his shoulders and kept reading. He had not made it that far, nor does he have to. I loved that he was so into learning. He was cheesing from the very moment his mom let him have that magazine. That kind of happiness is contagious, I couldn't help but smile.

Perspective

I had a slew of customers that put my mind right, starting with those kids and ending with this next woman. She, an amputee, rolled up in a wheelchair, got out of it, placed all of her groceries on the belt and greeted me with the biggest smile I had seen all day. I checked out her groceries, we laughed about the unreal power of the bulk section's dark chocolate and then she hopped up to the card reader to pay. She got around quick and was very friendly. I began to offer her help outside but before I could finish my sentence she had already grabbed her food and was waving me goodbye. The whole thing happened so fast I had to think about it for a while after she left.

I wondered what happened to her, how did she lose her leg? She was so happy and kind, she must have an amazing support system. Did she escape death or was this a card she was dealt at a young age? There she went, like a bolt, off to do the next thing and here I was, bitching about employee appreciation day with both of my legs. I became instantly embarrassed about the way I had acted all day.

Sweet Nate

If I were to have a motorcycle gang of hit men ala The Lincoln Lawyer, I would imagine they would be grown up versions of our grocery baggers. I should say my grocery baggers. These young guys go to bat for me every time. Even if another person's line is busier, they sometimes stick around mine and I appreciate it. Maybe that's because not many of the other cashiers talk to them. They are usually 16 or 17 years old where the rest of us are in our 20s, 30s and up. I always make sure to greet them and thank them for helping. It is a total luxury to have someone helping pack groceries, it makes everything go much faster and it also gives me more people to talk to. The grocery baggers make fun of me for not processing the fact that they are there to help sometimes. I'll sit there and chat with them while I pack my customer's things by myself.

Sweet Nate has made a point to announce that he is there to assist. He'll walk up and say, "Hello, Miranda. My name is Nate and I am here to assist you." This actually helps me to stop doing things by myself. Nate is always kind to the customers and his coworkers. He seems like the kind of guy that really respects his mother. You can always tell when a guy loves his mom. Another thing I adore about Sweet Nate is that he is constantly revealing his age. For example:

CRV: [Strangers in the Night plays overhead] Shoo-beeeee-doo-bee-dooooo....
NATE: Where are you!
ME: Um, Nate? That isn't the Scooby-Doo theme song.
NATE: Really?


...and laughter.