A Day in the Life


Singer-songwriters, such as Billy Joel, Paul McCartney, Jim Croce, and Elton John, see the world through musical glasses, describing the world as they see it, or the way that they wish it could be. These artists write stories in their songs, describing characters and events, that we then always remember; such as the the people described in the piano bar, in Piano Man, or immortalized in Penny Lane, detailed in Bad Bad Leroy Brown, or in lasting memory, of Elton's John's brother, in Daniel's Song.

Writers are quite the same way. When I watch the world around me, I see the people I know well; family, friends, co-workers, customers, neighbors, and even those I have encountered, just one time, as characters in a novel; ready to be described, in a way, that I hope, will interest my highly-appreciated, dedicated handful, of readers. 

This does help me deal with some of the stress in life, because so many things that happen, feel like they could only happen to me; and my life, often feels like a TV sitcom. The more recent hit, by Simple Plan, entitled, Welcome to My Life, seems to be my personal opus.

I am going back to looking at things in this manner, and it is bringing back my creative edge, and helping me get more enjoyment, as well as a lot of writing material, from my days. No matter how stressful at times, they often can be.

Yesterday, for me, was one of those "novel" times, where all my characters, mostly at work, were keeping me very entertained. I could not wait to transfer their antics to my blog.

An older lady stopped at my cosmetics register, yesterday, and gave me around $17.00 of product, to ring up for her. When I had given her the total, she handed me a small jar of quarters. This is, by the way, not the first time change has been handed to me, uncounted, in payment for cigarettes, candy, or Depend undergarments. 

"I do not know how much this is," they often say, passing the buck, of counting, to me. I am usually wondering, at these times, if these particular customers, somehow bi-passed counting in school, and whether, they ever watched, Sesame Street.

Regardless, this lady gave me the jar; so, I, somewhat, disagreeably, (although, hiding it well), poured the quarters, onto the counter.

"I do not know, if that is going to be enough, to pay for everything," she informed me.

Math has never been my finest subject, but I looked quickly at the quarters, and estimated that she had about, ten dollars worth. I told her this.

"Oh, OK," she replied. "Just put them back in the jar, I will use my debit card. Those were for laundry, anyway."

I scooped the quarters, back into my hand, then put them back into the jar. The customer then gave me her debit card, and I ran it through, to pay for her merchandise.

"I have to go back to bed, now," she informed me, then, as if she had just woken up, with this jar of quarters on her mind, and a sudden desire, to use them.

"Why?" I inquired, somewhat wary, based on much past experience. "Are you sick?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I have a cold, I do not know why."

I have been taking Airborne, almost every day for like two months, to try and keep away germs that are flying everywhere at me, from my customers, and co-workers." So far, it has been working. 

Now, properly alarmed, after having touched all her contaminated quarters, (I really can not miss anymore work), I waited, until this customer had stepped away from the register, then bathed my hands, in berry-scented hand sanitizer, which I carry on my person, for this very reason.

Shortly after this unexpected event, I spoke with my boss, Mrs. W., regarding a lanyard-earning program, we have had going on, at Walgreen's, for about a year. I had had a customer compliment me highly, to a manager, the day before. This event was supposed to get me, to where I was one step away, from earning one more star, and thus a Superstar Lanyard. This was not a huge goal to me, but it looks good to corporate.

My-co worker Chris, was herself, one star away, from earning her latest lanyard, and she was to have "mentored" me, so that when I earned one more star, she would then, get her last lanyard, as well.

I asked my boss, Mrs.W., if this was going to happen, as planned. Chris is, what Dave refers to, as a "decorated veteran of Walgreen's" with more pins for customer service, than I have ever seen on anyone. She has been waiting for this last lanyard, for some time.

"I am not sure we are still giving out Gold Lanyards," Mrs. W. explained to me. "I will have to look into it."

I reported this new development, to Chris, shortly afterwards.

"That figures," she replied.

"It is just like social-security," I said, as a come-back. "Once we need it, it will likely be gone."

We then, both agreed, that we would likely both fall over dead, before we could afford to retire.

Later that day, I followed behind my co-worker, Ken, who was also going into the office, to use the computer. I pretended to jump in front of him, and he cornered me, with, "Hey."

"I need to use it," I said, with a sassy-smile. (You can not survive at my store, without being able to sass back my co-workers, and my myriad of bosses, at opportune times).

My supervisor, Mrs. W. was sitting at her desk, behind us. Mrs. W. always likes to play the Switzerland card, when we are giving each other a hard time. For example, if I complain to her, in front of Mr. N., that he, our sarcastic, assistant manager, has been acting like a royal, pain-in-the-bootie, (which he often is), she will say, "I hear nothing."

"Ladies, first." I countered, to Ken.

"Seniority," he then, suggested, since he is older, than I am.

We both laughed, and he offered to print the signs I needed, with his own. Somehow, we then got into a discussion about Sesame Street, ("this day brought to you by the letter A, and the number 3"), the Muppet Show, ("classic stuff, man") and Captain Kangaroo, (specifically, the moose with the ping-pong balls). My boss continued to tap at her computer work; though, clearly entertained.

Early in the evening, I was walking into the stockroom, after my co-worker, Franz. This "hard to miss," difficult-not too-like, employee and friend, is a little younger than me, with a laid-back personality, that everyone is fond of picking on...(and he loves it). He works in the camera department.

I started calling him, Franzerelli, years ago, and now, everyone else, calls him Franzie.. Franz is well-known, for always asking, any, and all, of us, if we will do him a favor; usually some task he is supposed to accomplish, but hopes someone else, will do, for him.

As we walked into the stockroom, Mr. N. paged over the loud speaker, in a very, slow, fun-intended, purposeful way. "Franz. To. The. Camera. Department. Please."

I turned to Franz, and asked, "Is there are reason Mr. N. is talking to you, like a retard?"

Franz laughed, and declared, that he had no idea. I strolled up to the camera department, where my co-worker, Tina, was goofing around, pretending to be Franz. Mr. N. stood there, laughing.

"Why are you  talking to Franz, like a retard?" I asked, Mr. N., with a smile. (The word "retard," is now, a supposedly, politically incorrect reference, in this kind of situation; but I am an 80's child, and I use it anyway).

"I thought I saw him coming this way," Mr. N. explained, "But then, he disappeared."

Mr. N. then asked Franz to observe him, according to store policy, while he inspected our lockers, for unpaid-for merchandise. I walked into the locker area, and Franz started in, with a phrase, he often says, when I suddenly appear, from seemingly, nowhere. "Then, there is, Holly."

Mr. N. then came back with, "Yeah, she has stuff dripping from her locker, into someone else's."

Knowing full well, that this was not so, I replied, "Yeah, me, and my bottle of ant-acid pills, and a safety pin." (Which were really, two, of the three things, in my locker, all properly paid for).

Mr. N. and Franz walked into the office then, where Mr. N. commented, that this particular locker check had been very uneventful, and had given him little cause, to holler at anyone. "I think, next time, I will stage the lockers, with unpaid product, like cigarettes," he said, in a teasing fashion. "That would be more fun."  

Just another, day in the life, of a Walgreen's employee.