%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
Musings on anything. |
|
My blog was filled up. I'm too lazy to clean it out. So I started a new one. |
| Many years ago, I worked in a grocery store, smaller than today's supermarkets. It is still around and sits in an odd section near a rich neighborhood and in a poor neighborhood. It draws people in with its prices, service and location. When I was there, we still had paper food stamps, which were replaced a long time ago with EBT. We had a large number of winos, the original homeless. When the downtown branch burned down, all the winos had to walk the extra blocks to get their cheap alcohol from us. We sold Boone's Farm, Wild Roses, and MD 20-20 (Mad Dog). It was very cheap and did not have to be controlled by the state alcohol board. Most of these men were smelly and dirty. One day a fellow smelled so bad, you could smell him in the aisles even after he left them. Once he out of the building, a young manager went up and down the aisles spraying disinfectant before other customers could start complaining. They sometimes paid in coins and would slowly count out the exact amount. Most people would drop the coins in your hand or possibly lay it on the counter. This one guy was determined to touch your hand before he released the money. I didn't want him to touch me. I could see how dirty his hands were. I held my hand out flat, to avoid contact. His nails were long, and he kept lowering his hand. I lowered my hand, but he didn't get the hint. He wanted to put the money directly on my hand. The lower my hand went, the lower his hand went. I finally gave up and let him brush his fingertips into my palm. Sometimes the paper money they handed me was wet. In a down moment with no customers a few cashiers were standing there cleaning or stocking the endcaps and the subject came up. I said something like "They must sleep in a gutter or they get rained on." They broke up laughing and one of them said, "They peed on it." I was dumbfounded. They teased me for what seemed like ages because I reacted with such a shock and was speechless for a moment. I started looking. Sure enough, some of them came into the store with the inside of one leg wet. They were so out of it, they either didn't know what they had done or did it in their sleep. It never occurred to them to get dry before going around women, or they just didn't care. I was always careful about washing my hands. I had no choice if I kept working there, but to handle their money, make conversation and be polite. I felt sorry for them. Today, I suppose those types-the hopeless alcoholic- are still around but have more options for shelter. They are joined by a lot of people who can control their drinking a little better and by families that don't have permanent housing. Despite all the negative things you hear, the city does do a better job of protecting these men and making help available if they want it. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
I marvel at the things I'll be able to tell my grandkids about someday. Life is accelerating - or maybe it just feels that way!
I completely sympathize with your desire to declutter. I have more stuff than you can shake a stick at that didn't actually belong to just my wife or myself throughout the house.