Chapter Twenty-Three: The Final Countdown

When I began writing this post, I started with the words "Two fridays ago, I put my two

weeks notice in..." Well - I have been working at my new job for three weeks now. (The title was

much more appropriate when I started writing this post too.) So you can see how long it's taken

me to wrap this up. I guess I just can't seem to say goodbye to this blog...

When I told one of my supervisors of my leave, her response was "What about your blog?" And to be honest, with the exception of the people I work with, that's about the only reason I'd have to stick around. This is where all of you either sigh with relief or gasp in despair. I'd rather not hear the answer in fear of finding out that I've wasted time on this blog.

Things I'll Miss:

-Fellow Employees:

Some of the people I work with at the store are the most compassionate and selfless people I've ever met. Recently, I learned news that a great family friend was close to passing and I really wanted to drive to Michigan to see her. Making a very long story very short - I arrived to work where two of my coworkers had orchestrated a plan for me to go (hearing of my news only fifteen minutes before) - finding a way to cover all of my shifts for the following three days on short notice. This meant more hours for them - less hours at home with their families - on a moment's notice. If you've worked in any field similar to mine - or if you've worked at all - you know how rare this is.

-Regular Customers:

I'm not going to lie - some of the customers are freaks. Plain and simple. That's clear across the board in America and across the world. But the regulars that come in, the ones where I can actually predict their behavior and reactions - I'm going to miss that.... and I guess I'll miss the crazies too.

-Shrek II:

I have seen Shrek II more than any person has seen any movie. Ever. It's on repeat from the moment we open until the moment we close. I time my day using that movie. I start the feature film when I open. And three Shreks later, I can go on break. My entire view on time is completely warped for the rest of my life.

Things I Won't Miss:

-Coughing and other Disrespectful Behavior Toward Humankind:

While coughing regularly occurs all around the world - all the time - it happens most often in a drugstore. Naturally. I mean - we do sell medicine. So during flu season, sick people tend to flock toward the store like white on rice - or ugly on ape (as my father says). Oh and something I learned when I started: cashiers are not people. So they absolutely LOVE to be coughed on. Don't bother covering your mouth, or coughing over your shoulder. No need. We have plenty of employees ready to lend a hand, and even more money lying around at home so we can take as much time off as possible to recover from the heinous disease you have just thrust upon us.

-Holidays:

People are nasty and vicious at Christmas time. Unless you've worked retail - and I bet most of us have - it is hard to fathom how hateful people are during the holidays. Actually - we've all been shopping at Christmas time - so I'm going to go ahead and assume that all of us has encountered a grinch at Toys R Us one time or another. Remember the song "Christmas Shoes" - the one that makes you cry every time you hear it. The one about the cute little boy and his sick mother? And the kind old gent behind him who pays for the boy's shoes? Ain't gonna happen here, kiddo. In fact, you better watch that old fellar. You've got the last pair of shoes in the whole store and he'll beat you with a stick until you give them up.

While I might maybe remain 'on call' at CVS, I am really enjoying my new job at a credit union. So - until next time.....

Good luck and Godspeed.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Old MacDonald Had a Chicken

I realize that some of these stories seem too strange to be true (but I assure you - they are so very real). That's why I get evidence when at all possible....

An older man approached the register. "Have you seen my chicken?"

Oh my goodness. What is he about to whip out and show me? "Nope," I said continuing my work.

And that's when he pulled out this little number pictured above. A rubber chicken. He turned it's butt toward me and pushed an "egg" out, as he called it. He pushed it closer to my face to show me where the yolk was. Oh good. I was afraid I wasn't going to hear about the details.

And the first thing that came to my mind was my blog. So I took one for the team and acted impressed in order to ask for a picture. (To my twelve followers: You're welcome.) Do you know how much energy it takes to pretend that you're really impressed with a rubber chicken? A whole heaping of energy. That's how much. "Wow!" I exclaimed. "That is so neat! Can I take a picture?!"

He agreed. And when I told my brother, he told me I should feel guilty because, apparently, I was misleading this poor man. But I'm sure this guy was flattered, which leads me to this next question: What is up with old men and little gags and gimmicks? Do we not remember the inventor? I have a feeling these two guys are in a club together.

Chapter Twenty-One: A Whole Lot of Information I Didn't Want to Know

I'm pretty sure the title says it all...

But just incase it's not clear enough, go ahead and read on.

A woman entered the store looking for bottle liners to use to store sheeps' milk. As she was checking out, she proceeded to explain the size of the sheep's "teet", as she called it. She used her hands and everything.... Thanks, ma'am. "As big as a cow's" is what she said.

A few hours later, I found myself unable to function. I was feeling lightheaded and my face was flushed when a man approached the register. I didn't notice him at first, so he watched as I was talking to myself. That was awesome. When I finally noticed him, I ran to the register.

"Sorry!" I apologized.

"No problem. You okay?" he asked.

"Sure, I just feel lightheaded and woozy."

With a serious face and concerned tone, he asked "Are you pregnant?"

I said no so many times and so loud that my supervisor came running to the front because she thought we were getting robbed. If he only knew how impossible that was.

Then he proceeded to tell me all about his vasectomy. When he had it. Why he had it.....Thanks guy.

Chapter Twenty: The Inventor

We all know some old timer who makes up little anecdotes, jokes, or one-of-a-kind inventions.

I had the pleasure of meeting one the other day. I didn't even catch his name. But in the five minutes it took me to scan his pictures and save them on a disc, he had given me two little inventions, claiming that 'he had washers and dryers all over the nation.'

...We've all heard of that washer and dryer gimmick right? The clothespin with a metal washer on it....

Then he handed me another little number, an exercise for the elderly. It was packaged and everything... When I made up my best impressed face and told him how cool they were and tried to hand them back to him, he said they were mine to keep. Oh great. Sadly, that's not the worst thing someone has tried to give me at work... There's an old man that tries to kiss me every time he comes in. Needless to say, I am either behind the counter, far from his reach, or in the back room, hiding.

All of that being said, in honor of my 20th chapter (who knew I'd have this much material??), and against my better judgment, I am giving away these two inventions. And I am actually stealing this idea from my friend, Leah Rife, who has a great blog that you should check out. Except, Leah gives out cool things.... Unfortunately, I must maintain the tone of my blog and hand out junk.

So if you feel a part of these stories and want gifts from a real live crazy customer, leave a comment saying so...b/c quite frankly, I don't know what to do with them.

Chapter Nineteen: (WANTED) Personal Shopper

I am surprised that I don't see a regular ad in the local newspaper for a person seeking a personal shopper because most everyone that shops at (insert popular drugstore name) seems to need one.

As I have said multiple times, I have no problem helping people out - showing customers around the store, grabbing something for them in the pharmacy aisles, etc.

What I sometimes find to be a slight problem is the fact that some shoppers are confused, and believe I am their own personal cashier from the moment they walk in until the moment they leave.

i.e.

"Hello! How are you today?" I say as the customer enters.

"Fine. Where's the peanut butter?" says Customer.

"Aisle 21. Right ahead of you."

He walks directly to his right, because the grocery aisle is literally right when you walk in the door and almost impossible to miss.

Customer appears from the aisle a moment later. "Where's the coffee?"

"Right above the peanut butter," I reply.

He returns down aisle 21. And a few minutes later, he appears back in the center aisle.

By this time, I'm ringing up someone else's purchase. But Customer doesn't care. "Where's the coupon center?" he bellows out.

"Right straight ahead of you," I say back, trying not to scream directly in the face of the person at the register in front of me.

Two minutes later, Customer comes to the counter. "Where are the greeting cards? Can you show me?"

"Sure!" I reply. And we trek down the center aisle to the three large aisles of cards.

Next, I walk him across the aisle to the oral care section, to find the perfect toothbrush.

(Incase you've never had the privilege of meeting someone in need of a personal shopper - let me explain: It's like they're blind. They don't even attempt to look for the things on their list. They want the cashier to walk them around to each item. And they're in a hurry. So it's more like a scavenger hunt. Meanwhile, you have a line of ten people at the register.)

"Let me run up and page someone to help you so I can take care of the people at the register, okay?" I suggest, watching the growing crowd.

"Wait," he insists. "Just a few more. Where's the pop?"

And it continues. I wish I had a clone - or five.

{Author's Note}

....I must admit. The above was a collaboration of a a couple different stories, but the idea is always the same.

Chapter Eighteen: Honest Abe

A 50ish year old lady came in this afternoon around 5 and stood behind two customers in line.

After a few moments, she hollered to me from the back of the line. "Can I get some help getting a curling iron?"

I should explain - our curling irons, as well as a lot of other hair appliances, are locked up because white trash steal them... Okay - back to the story:

"Sure," I said. "Give me just a moment."

"Well, I was just hoping someone else could help me."

I had no idea why. But I'm assuming it's because she wanted to be helped ASAP. So whatever. "Alright. I'll page my supervisor," I said (even though I knew she was stuck behind a gazillion boxes in the back). I did so, and told her someone would be to aisle 6 shortly. I continued with the two customers in line. And while my second customer was looking for the right candy at the checkout, I looked up to see the curling iron customer standing in the center aisle near aisle 6. She had her arms folded and was glaring at me.

"I"ll be right back," I said to the quiet customer before me. I grabbed the key to the curling iron rack and sprinted to aisle 6. My supervisor got there right when I did. As I said before, she was stuck in the back room and got there as soon as she could.

"I'm sorry to make people wait," crazy lady said. "I just want this appliance."

I bit my tongue, because I do understand that people don't like to wait. Really. Who loves waiting around? But we're understaffed and I didn't want to go into that because quite frankly, that's not her fault and it's no excuse.

I unlocked the stand and took the curling iron. She held her hand out, expecting me to hand over the appliance.

I attempted to make this as easy as possible: "I'll have this at the register whenever you're ready."

She rolled her eyes. She wasn't yelling, but she definitely raised her voice. I know by the look on the customer's voice in the seasonal aisle as we passed by. "I work at a credit union! I am not going to steal a curling iron."

Okay - a couple things here, ma'am. What does that have to do with the price of wheat in China? Just because you are a teller at a credit union doesn't mean you won't steal. I'm sure you wouldn't. And really - I didn't mentally stamp the word "Thief" on her forehead when she entered the store. She really doesn't strike me as that kind of a person... and I told her so.

"Oh, I know. It's just corporate policy that I have to take it to register. I know how silly it sounds."

We approached the front (and she huffed and puffed the whole way there) and the lady who was searching for candy was standing at the register. She was very obviously scared of the crazy lady and offered her place in line.

"No," the crazy lady replied. "This is not a huge deal. It was never about waiting. I don't mind waiting for the curling iron. I just wanted some help."

By this point, I was shaking. Ask anybody who knows me even a little bit. I am terrified of confrontation. Absolutely terrified. So I was thrilled when my supervisor stepped in and took care of crazy lady's order on the next register.

As soon as she left, my supervisor turned to me (with no one else around) and said "Menopause." Must be. Let me tell you what - I would hate to be a member of the credit union she works at. Oh my stars...

How did the rest of the shift go, you ask?

Well - a crackhead brought in her four children and practically forced candy down their throats while they were hacking up a lung. There is so much more to this story that I don't want to get into... and she was there for only a few minutes. If my social worker friend, Kate, were still in town, I would have given her a call. She'd be there will bells on.... and a police squad.

Also - I was sent to pick up rock salt for the sidewalks, as we are preparing for a storm (or so we heard)... And I came back with water softener salt..... I don't want to talk about it.

Chapter Seventeen: Appreciation

Let's be honest: I have definitely done my fair share of complaining...

I have used this blog as a venue to vent my frustrations about interesting encounters with customers. And initially, this was not my plan. I had planned on this blog being primarily a source of humor. So I apologize.

This entry is my attempt for a purely uplifting story:

I started my 8AM day with coffee, not knowing it would be my life saver.

By 9AM, I had already planned on taking a nap at 2PM, when I got off work. Someone let the crazies loose, and they all came running to (insert popular drugstore name). They were cranky and anything that could go wrong, did. (...Okay. I said I would try to omit the complaints... & you need to hear the backstory anyway.)

By 2PM, I found out the second shift needed to be covered. I offered to take it, making it a fourteen hour work day.

By 8PM, I had developed six-ish rolls of film, restarted a digital photo order three times, unloaded umpteen boxes and stocked them onto shelves, and began my second passport order....

....I didn't think much of it. The customer, a woman in her twenties, was preparing for a trip and needed to take those terribly awkward pictures where you stand in front of a janky white screen and blankly stare at the stranger with the camera. I always feel bad for the person that needs passport pictures. I've been there. You can't smile. No glasses. You don't look anything like yourself.... Anyway - we made small talk for a few minutes while I printed her pictures. We talked about our upcoming out of country trips and even realized we had mutual friends. A few minutes later, after I rang up her order, another customer approached me with a question, so she left.

By 9PM, I was sitting in the middle of the alcohol aisle, where I was stocking shelves. It occurred to me that I had been on my feet for thirteen straight hours for the first time in... well, forever, and that may have been the reason I couldn't feel my feet. So I sat down for a good five minutes and contemplated my day.

By 930PM, I headed back to the front counter to close down the photo machines, and the same customer from an hour before came through the front doors.

"Did you forget something?" I asked.

"No," she responded. "I just wanted to come back and tell you that I really appreciated your help earlier. You were so nice."

I was shocked. I think I rattled off some form of gratitude. (I hope.) My energy levels had faded, as well as my capacity to remember what I'd been saying to customers...

Regardless, I was and still am so appreciative of her kind words. I failed to mention earlier that our weather forecast has been freezing rain all day. And the fact that she drove back to thank me is crazy - and inspiring. If I gain nothing else from this job (which is nearly impossible), I will remember to take the time to appreciate others - from family members to strangers.

By no means am I saying I did some crazy thing by taking a double shift today. It was crazy for me because I'm a wimp, and I wasn't planning on this day where everything that could go wrong, did. My boss works double shifts about every week or so. And so do the pharmacists. So it's not as if this isn't normal behavior at my workplace. And yes, of course I know that there are much more daunting jobs out there - tedious, dangerous, or painfully boring. I know I'm not a victim in this story - or in this job. Far from it. I am incredibly blessed...

Again, all I mean to say is that I am appreciative of appreciative people. In the midst of a crazy and unexpected day, I got a breath of fresh air.

To all the appreciative people in the world: I appreciate you.

Chapter Sixteen: The Six Types of Valentine Guys

In honor of Valentine's Day, I thought I'd share the six types of guys who participate in Valentine Day festivities/occasions (in no particular order). Now, I do realize that there are more than these six types, but I only had the privilege of encountering these few at work tonight. Some are funny. Some are sad. But all of these stories kept spinning through my mind all night, and I needed to write them down.

And I will start by saying, I feel a little bad. Valentine's Day has never been something my family put much emphasis on growing up. So I never realized how much people (specifically guys) spent on this day. And I noticed - there were very few women in the store compared to men. Sorry guys. Apparently, it's all your responsibility. All that to say...

1. The Head-over-Heels Guy - This guy is genuine. He is so excited about Valentine's Day. He absolutely adores his wife and couldn't be more excited to dote on her with singing stuffed animals.

EXHIBIT A: A man pretty much galloped to the counter where I stood. He set a card and a plush flower on the counter.

"Have you tried all these gadgets out?" he inquired, so very eagerly.

"Nope. I can't say I have."

Without any further notice, he pushed some button on this thing and it began to shake and sing some tune. He was ecstatic. He proceeded to tell me that he was a truck driver and was thrilled to have the night off to see his wife. He said he had enough time to go see her, and then he had to get back on the road. Precious. If only all the customers were this positive.

2. The Egotistical Teenage Guy - This guy was any kid who spent anywhere from fifty to a hundred dollars on stuffed animals and chocolate roses. He made me laugh a lot too.

EXHIBIT B: One guy in particular spent one hundred dollars in two different transactions. Best part? His shirt. It read "To: Women....From: God." Wow. I bet he bought that especially for today. How thoughtful.

3. The Make-up Guy - I saw the same look on many customers' faces today. The frantic eyes and worried smile.

EXHIBIT C: A guy loaded the countertop with plenty of roses, a few boxes of chocolates, two stuffed animals, and a card.

"This ought to keep me out of the doghouse, you think?"

I couldn't help but laugh. Poor guy.

4. The Traditional Guy - This guy doesn't really value Valentine's day, or maybe is too proud to admit he does. Valentine's Day is more of a tradition. It's what you do.

EXHIBIT D: A gruff-looking man approached the counter. He wore a mechanic's jumpsuit with the name Bob embroidered on it.

"This oughta be good enough for her to make me a good dinner," he mumbled as he threw a card down on the counter.

I suggested he make her dinner, and you would have thought I asked him to wear a dress the way he looked at me in disgust. What a lucky lady his wife is. I wonder how that dinner turned out.

5. The Grumpy Old Guy - He doesn't seem to care about his wife or Valentine's Day.

EXHIBIT E: An elderly lady approached the counter to buy a few bottles of vitamins. I asked how her day was going. And she completely opened up about her feelings.

"Well - I asked my husband if he was going to buy me a Valentine today."

She paused. I waited, eagerly hoping for another good story to add to my vault.

She continued. "And he just looked at me and said 'We've been married fifty some years. It's not Valentine anymore. It's Vomit Time.' And he got up and went into the garage to watch TV."

My eyes were wide. How do I wrap this up? What do I say to this woman? My jaw dropped and no words came out. I just stared.

"Well," she said. "I guess I should just be glad I'm breathing."

I have never in my life wanted to buy someone a Valentine so badly. I felt so terrible for her. I have been blessed with a great family. My brother, father, grandfather, and uncle have all be fantastic examples of stand-up guys. They've always been thoughtful, considerate, and kind. And it wasn't until this very story, that I realized how truly blessed I am to be supported by my family.

And in an attempt to end on a good note....

6. The Elderly Guy - This guy is by far my favorite. Along with Guy #1 (The Head Over Heels Guy), the Elderly Guy is completely enamored with his wife. He adores her. He makes sure she has everything she needs, and everything she wants. He makes sure she feels appreciated and loved, and knows his life is complete with her in it.

EXHIBIT F: {See Chapter Fifteen}

These stories, however strange or mundane, gave me some comedic relief in such a chaotic evening. And I am so thankful for the characters that come through the store on a regular basis. They make the hours pass a little faster, and they make cranky customers seem a fewer and far between. Thank you, characters of (insert Midwestern County name) County!

H a p p y V a l e n t i n e ' s D a y !

Chapter Fifteen: A Valentine Promise

Okay. Sorry. This one's not a funny story. Not even close.

I started off my morning tired and not extremely excited to get out of bed and into the cold winter weather. I got to work and realized I had mistaken someone else's hours for my own. It was a whirlwind of a day and it was only 830AM.

I was flustered and found myself in a bad mood, when I noticed an older 'regular' couple standing next to my supervisor. I would guess the two are in their late seventies at least. And the husband was whispering to my supervisor. He called me over and told me that the woman needed help finding a Valentine's card for her husband. I was super excited. Unfortunately, I never get to do fun stuff like this on the job because it's too hard to leave the front area for an extended period of time.

I walked the woman (with her husband close behind us) to the greeting card aisle. I led her to the wide selection of Valentine cards and took the first one that caught my eye.

"Would you like me to read it to you?" I asked.

"If you wouldn't mind," she replied.

So, with the woman on my right, and her husband less than three feet away on my left (looking at his own share of cards), I began reading the card. I spoke as soft as I could, so her husband wouldn't hear too much of it before he received it from his wife on Monday.

The card read:

"My Valentine Promise. I promise we'll never stop laughing and having fun together, and that even through the ups and downs, we'll still be best friends. I promise to keep learning new things about you, to give you room to grow, and to appreciate the wonderful man you are. I promise to grow old with you, to love you with all my heart, and never to take for granted the wonderful life we share...Because you and your love mean more to me than anything in this world. Happy Valentine's Day."

Now - ever since a film class where I watched every depressing movie available to mankind, I have been unusually emotional in any situation. But for reals, this one would get anyone.

Immediately after I was finished reading the card aloud, the woman said "I like this one. This is the one I want."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to read anymore?"

"No. It's perfect. It's exactly what I want."

Okay. More fighting back of the tears.

We all three headed back to the counter.

She purchased her card first.

Then he approached the counter and purchased his card along with a box of chocolates for them to share.

They were out the door and on their way. But that made my day. I needed to see something like that. With the massive amounts of crazy people that walk through our doors on a regular basis, I was relieved to find a couple that have probably been married for decades. And even though she can't drive herself or read her own card, she finds a way to find the perfect card for her husband for Valentine's Day... even if he's only a few feet away from her looking for his own perfect card. Beautiful.

Chapter Fourteen: Open Mouth. Insert Foot.

Remember how I said I'll post when a customer does something stupid? Well..I guess what goes around comes around.

A man came into the store and immediately grabbed all eight of our town newspapers and eagerly put them on the counter. I rarely, and I mean rarely, inquire about why people are purchasing what they're purchasing. I think it's nosey, but mostly, I tend to daydream during the short amount of time it takes the customer to swipe their credit card at the register, so I don't even have time to create lengthy conversations...

But of course, it's me. So when I am able to make a situation uncomfortable, my brain finds a way.

"Aw! Do you know someone in the paper?" I asked in an extraordinarily cheerful manner.

He responded so quickly. "Yes. My wife just passed away."

Enough said.

Chapter Thirteen: I'm Not One to Gossip. However...

Okay - the title is only faintly appropriate for this post. But it was the first title I thought of and it's in honor of my friend, Bri. If you don't have the pleasure of knowing her, you're missing out. I'm not sure how many times I'd be studying in my dorm room, when she'd come through the door. And every conversation started with "I'm not one to gossip. However..." and usually ended in a story about who knocked up who or who was in the middle of the courtyard yelling at their boyfriend in the middle of a tif. It always made my day. And she always had a way of cheering my roommate and me up.

And by now, you should know that I am severely ADD without any medication. So back to the slow deterioration of a salesperson and the (hopefully humorous) stories that accompany that....

While ringing up a customer's purchase, I overheard her talking to her husband.

"That Jennifer Aniston is a liar," said Woman, pointing to a tabloid magazine.

"What?" replied Man.

"She was just on Oprah telling her that she wasn't adopting. And here she is on the cover of (insert rarely factual gossip magazine name) and she's saying she is adopting!"

I chimed in. "Oh. You never can believe those magazines. They're always stretching the truth."

Woman looked at me with a blank stare. "Then why does it say 'A source confirms...'?"

I bit my tongue. For all I know, Jennifer Aniston is adopting. I'm not sure. I didn't bother to open the pages to find out. But when on earth did we start believing tabloids and quote unquote sources, instead of direct quotes from the actual person? Who's the source anyway? No wonder these magazines stay in publication and celebrities' reputations are tainted. We take whatever we see/hear in tabloids to be true.

I wasn't intending to get on a soapbox and convince you to boycott tabloids. I am just in complete shock by this woman's inability to think for herself and piece things together.

Chapter Twelve: Mama's Boy

Assume that any uncomfortable situation I encounter at work will be posted - funny or not.

Translation - Do something stupid at (insert popular drugstore name) and I will share it with the world...or the six people who follow my page.

Here's a simple and very awkward (and I don't believe I use this term too loosely in this blog) story for you:

Mother accompanies her 18ish year old son and his girlfriend into the store. ALL THREE of them go to the back of the store near the pharmacy and return to the front.

Son puts a pack of Trojan Magnum condoms on the counter. Between he and his girlfriend, they find the money to pay for these things, while mama bear stands directly behind them. The three of them leave.

See. Very simple story. And I shouldn't need to continue to explain why this is strange behavior, but I will. While I guess I appreciate the 'caution', if you are not mature enough to drive yourself or find your own way to the store, maybe you're not mature enough to have sex. Maybe I'm just crazy.

And while I'm sitting at my computer in shock at how our society is going down the crapper, let me continue. Why is your mother helping you pick them out? As I stated earlier, all three of them stood in the family planning aisle and gawked at the different brands together. So strange. So very weird. So very typical... Only in (insert ghetto town name).

There. That's the end of my rant.

Chapter Eleven: The Next Generation

Okay - I couldn't think of a better title.

But this story is not as humorous as it is unbelievable. My, oh my, times have surely changed. I'm only 22 years old, and I feel like an old lady. I know people begin to say that when they enter their twenties and compare themselves to youngsters, but seriously - I feel like an old lady. I don't understand why children need cell phones. Where do they go alone? Even if they're not with their parents, surely they're not out wandering the town without an adult. I didn't have a phone until I had a driver's license. And even then, I couldn't text for another year. (And maybe I'm just jealous of a fourth grader.)

A nine year old kid was studying the few pre-paid cell phones that we carry. His mother left him there to take his little sister to the bathroom. With a pencil box full of change in one hand and his purchase in the other, he approached the front and slid the Net 10 cell phone on the counter. He immediately started to count his change.

After he paid, he lingered at the checkout because his mom was taking a while. So I began to ask him questions about what school he went to and what grade he was in. I'm sure I scared him a little bit but I had no idea what else to talk to him about. As a child, I watched Matlock and played Nintendo. I had an inkling, he knew nothing about either subject.

Anyway -

I said "Is this your first phone?"

"No. It's my third."

My jaw dropped. "Third?! How old are you?"

"Nine."

"And how old were you when you got your first phone?"

"Four. I just keep dropping them in the toilet."

"Are you kidding me?... Guess how old I was when I got my first phone."

"Ten?" he guessed after much consideration.

"Sixteen."

"Whoa," he whispered. Somehow he was more shocked that I didn't have a phone until my sixteenth birthday than I was that he had one at age four, the year I got an Easy Bake Oven for christmas.

Chapter Ten: The Pathophobic

True Story:

I have never been sick as often as I have been since I started working at (insert popular drugstore chain name). I mean, it makes sense. It's a pharmacy, so most of my customers are sick. So when I had to go into work while sick b/c no one was able to cover, I should have prepared myself for what I would encounter.

I should explain that I wore my hair up.

No make up.

A nose brighter than Rudolph's.

Eyes glazed over.

Tissues stuffed in my fleece pockets.

Armed with hand sanitizer.

I mostly heard "Oh! You're sick?! Feel better."

I often heard "You know how to get rid of that, right? Vitamin C."

And I never grew tired of "You look terrible. Why are you here?"

But my most memorable experience through this hazy day was with a middle-aged woman, who I later diagnosed as a pathophobic (someone who is afraid of getting an illness).

She came up to the register and piled everything on the counter.

I began scanning the items and bagging them. I told her what her total was.

And she just looked at me and said "See. You're sick. And now I have to touch that stuff."

"I'm very sorry," I apologized. "I've been using a lot of hand sanitizer today, I assure you."

She paid, grabbed her stuff and left.

The next morning, she came back to return an item. And she was mortified to see that I was still employed at the store. I quickly gave her a refund and sent her on her way.

No more than three hours later, she returned.However, it was hard to recognize her. She had a sweatshirt on, hood up, gloves (this story is a few months old; and I'm telling you - the gloves weren't necessary), and a medical mask that covered most of her face... And I know that entire week is one giant blur, but I swear she looked almost like the lady in this picture. Any national quarantine crisis would be lucky to have her. She approached the line and bought something new. When I finally noticed it was the same woman from before, my jaw dropped. She wouldn't look me in the eye. And she was on the move, like her speed would somehow keep her healthy. I felt as if I'd been shunned and direct eye contact would have sentenced her to death or hell for sure.

It's probably best. Had she stayed any longer, I may have felt a sudden urge to cough.

Chapter Nine: The Disorderly Elderly

Like I've said before, I only write on this blog when there's something to share. Hence the huge time gap from my previous post. Yes, I know. Three months. Who cares. There was nothing to write about. I'm not one for blogging and this is primarily for my own journaling purposes anyway. And I'm too scatterbrained to keep track of an actual journal.

Today, a man came in and asked me to show him where the batteries were. I'd guess he'd be about seventy years old. While we walked down the center aisle, I asked him if I could see the battery he had in his hand to compare it to what he might need. He held out his hand. I took the battery and he immediately grabbed my hand and said "I'll hold your hand too." Okay. Someone please tell me: where in the store manual does it tell me what to say or do in this situation? I'm pretty sure this scenario is not specified. I panicked. I have the tendency to be abnormally uncomfortable in these situations already. So I said "Ummmmmmmmm.... thanks" and pulled my hand away.

Um, thanks?! Really. Great, Ash. If that's not an invitation to a 70 year old, I don't know what is.

I wish I could say this is the worst of my experiences, but I'd say previous posts have proven me wrong.