Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Where will it end

The aisle is lit by fluorescent lights. The glowing bulbs are turned on at 9 in the morning and shut off at 10 in the evening. My skin seemed a little radiant under the light, but my skin is pale so I glow all the time. The children's section of the pharmacy needed to be reorganized again. At about 5 or 6 pm every night a bunch of little kids storm into the store grabbing every single cheap toy we have. Their parents get their various needs, diapers, advil, douches, milk, and cheap wonder bread, before heading home for dinner. After the little kids have torn the store apart I'm set to work facing product. I spend an hour lining up all the products on the shelves. The diapers must be straightened, the advil must be flush against the shelf, the douches must be dusted, the milk must be restocked, and the old wonder bread pulled off the shelf. I checked the time and cursed myself. The key to these service jobs is to somehow beat the clock. We all have our ways. I try to ignore it, the girl at the cash register, Rachel, in between customers writes poetry on scrap receipts, and Billy, the other stock boy, he pours forth his soul into his labor. He meticulously organizes the diapers, alphabetizes the advil, dusts, and redusts the douches, and keeps careful track of the stock being placed on the shelf.

The thing about living in a rural town is that you have to drive everywhere. My cousin said that LA is the same, but the distances are smaller and the traffic greater. Either way the neccissity for an automobile remains the same, especially in the cold, snowy winters. My father is a carpenter, my mother is a front desk manager at the town's best western (that's the classy chain motel at the top of the hill). Neither of them make much money, and they're split up so I'm forced to take care of some of my own necessities. My father worked on a porch addition on the side during the summer so he could front me money to buy a car.

"Now that you have a car you can get a job," my father said to me.
"Thanks Dad, I'll repay you, I swear," I had promised.
It took me two weeks to find this job. I applied for a position working at the motel, but they didn't need anyone and Mother never really liked having me underfoot. I thought about trying to do some construction like my father but I didn't want to break my back like the old man. I applied at the video store, the art store, the grocery store, burger king's, mcdonald's... I even got up the nerve to walk into the local bar by the town square to see if I could get a job bussing tables or barbacking.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You are a good writer :)