On May 27, I worked my first shift alone at the Mini Mart. I would start at 3:00 pm and finish my shift at 10:00 pm when I would shut off the lights, turn off the register, shut down the gas pumps, count the lottery, check the cappuccino machines, put the old newspapers out, wipe down the meat slicer, drop the money in the safe, lock up and go home. I must remember to do all of these things. I could not forget any of these things. That would be bad.
When I arrived at 2:45 pm, the boss (who often works the day shift) was there. She led me to the thermostat, told me that the central air had been freezing up at night and then gave me a flurry of directions about how to leave the thermostat and the air-conditioning units when I left the store. “Leave that one on, but turn the one in the other corner off, and turn the thermostat off or just turn it up to 73 or 75, but never below 70 and if you want you can just turn it off, alright?” I nodded. “Have a good night,” and she was out the door.
I was all alone in the convenience store. The only sound was the humming from the pop coolers and the two air-conditioning units. Now, I thought, I have to turn that one off and leave the other one on or was it that one off and this one on? Is this one even on now? I suddenly very aware of how alone I was. It reminded me of when the truck dropped me at my village in Zambia for the first time. I watched them drive away and I knew that I was on my own. If I had any problems, I had better…
My thought was interrupted by a fist on the counter. An old hunched man with stringy gray hair was standing there. He was wearing a dirty black vest and in the crook of his left arm he held a black Chihuahua. He mumbled something. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t hear you.”
“GRAND LIGHT 100’S!”
I looked up. There was an empty space where the Grand Light 100’s should have been. I looked down. There was another empty space where the cartons of Grand Light 100’s should have been. “I’m sorry; it looks like we’re out.” His face tightened. Clearly I had ruined his evening. The Chihuahua snarled. Apparently I had ruined his evening as well. The man’s fist hit the countertop again and he walked out. I said quietly to myself, “this job is only temporary.”
The rest of the evening was crazy. There was a constant flow of people and I was consequently forced to improvise when I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing. At the end of the night, I stuffed everything in the money pouch and hoped for the best. I shut off the lights (and one of the air-conditioning units), turned off the register, shut down the gas pumps, counted the lottery, checked the cappuccino machines, put the old newspapers out, wiped down the meat slicer, dropped the money in the safe, and locked the door. Then I drove to a different gas station and filled up my car. While filling the tank, I couldn’t help wondering if I had indeed locked the door to the Mini Mart. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I didn’t check, so I went back. I pulled and the door didn’t come open. I could rest easy- at least until I found out whether or not I had screwed up anything on the register- so I went home. On the way home I listened to Blood, Sweat and Tears at full volume: … what goes up must come down.
When I arrived at 2:45 pm, the boss (who often works the day shift) was there. She led me to the thermostat, told me that the central air had been freezing up at night and then gave me a flurry of directions about how to leave the thermostat and the air-conditioning units when I left the store. “Leave that one on, but turn the one in the other corner off, and turn the thermostat off or just turn it up to 73 or 75, but never below 70 and if you want you can just turn it off, alright?” I nodded. “Have a good night,” and she was out the door.
I was all alone in the convenience store. The only sound was the humming from the pop coolers and the two air-conditioning units. Now, I thought, I have to turn that one off and leave the other one on or was it that one off and this one on? Is this one even on now? I suddenly very aware of how alone I was. It reminded me of when the truck dropped me at my village in Zambia for the first time. I watched them drive away and I knew that I was on my own. If I had any problems, I had better…
My thought was interrupted by a fist on the counter. An old hunched man with stringy gray hair was standing there. He was wearing a dirty black vest and in the crook of his left arm he held a black Chihuahua. He mumbled something. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t hear you.”
“GRAND LIGHT 100’S!”
I looked up. There was an empty space where the Grand Light 100’s should have been. I looked down. There was another empty space where the cartons of Grand Light 100’s should have been. “I’m sorry; it looks like we’re out.” His face tightened. Clearly I had ruined his evening. The Chihuahua snarled. Apparently I had ruined his evening as well. The man’s fist hit the countertop again and he walked out. I said quietly to myself, “this job is only temporary.”
The rest of the evening was crazy. There was a constant flow of people and I was consequently forced to improvise when I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing. At the end of the night, I stuffed everything in the money pouch and hoped for the best. I shut off the lights (and one of the air-conditioning units), turned off the register, shut down the gas pumps, counted the lottery, checked the cappuccino machines, put the old newspapers out, wiped down the meat slicer, dropped the money in the safe, and locked the door. Then I drove to a different gas station and filled up my car. While filling the tank, I couldn’t help wondering if I had indeed locked the door to the Mini Mart. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I didn’t check, so I went back. I pulled and the door didn’t come open. I could rest easy- at least until I found out whether or not I had screwed up anything on the register- so I went home. On the way home I listened to Blood, Sweat and Tears at full volume: … what goes up must come down.
1 comment:
OMG! I have to say that this blog is hilarious. I totally and completely miss you and laughed my ass off reading this. Last summer I had the unfortunate realization that a HS Diploma, a BM, and a MM will NOT help you to get any sort of job. I finally got a job when I fibbed about my education.....
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