The Bus Boys—“American Worker”
I put Mrs Beasley behind the couch in the living room, figuring it was
as safe a place as any. This way she wouldn’t be locked in a room and
could wander around the house freely, somehow terrorizing anyone she
happened to run into.
I reminded mom that I had to work until close and she promised that
someone would wait up until I came home so I could be let into the house
and then locked in my room. I had to love her for that.
With a few hours to spare I headed to the library which was on the way
to work. I scoped out the new arrivals to see if there was anything
worthwhile stealing at a later time then paged through the latest
edition of The Saturday Evening Post.
After the library had bored me, I went to work. As I headed to the
employee room in the back I stopped off in the canned fish aisle, opened
a can of salmon and placed it behind some boxes of elbow macaroni.
I put on my lovely red cart-pusher/bagger jacket, punched in and went to
the front of the store to get my assignment for the day. Surprisingly,
that day my duties consisted of collecting the carts, emptying garbage
from the registers and offices, putting empty boxes in the compacter
and, when needed, bagging customer’s groceries. Basically doing what I
did every day.
But this wasn’t always the case. At one point I worked in the deli,
which was a great job since I got to wear a long white coat which made
me look and feel important.
This was short-lived when some old biddy bitch decided to piss me off
one night by coming to the deli five minutes before close so that she
could order some sliced meat. Normally I had no problem with this since
it was my job, but I had already cleaned all the machines and it was
well past her bedtime and the only joy she had was coming down and
fucking with me.
I sliced the requested half pound of bologna and quarter pound of cooked
ham and then she decided she needed some cheese. Anger rose in me since
I had already dirtied one of the meat slicers and now she wanted me to
dirty the cheese slicer.
I could have walked around the counter and smacked her around a bit, but
I just went ahead and sliced her cheese. When I was done wrapping it I
tossed it on the counter, asked if there was anything else she needed,
received a negative response and went back to re-cleaning the machines.
The next day I was summoned to the manager’s office and told that they
had received a complaint about me. It seemed I had thrown a package of
meat at a little old lady and she wasn’t happy about it and wanted
something done or she would never shop there again.
I didn’t deny what happened (even though it was cheese not meat in the
package) because I knew deep down inside I really wanted to toss the
package in her old wrinkly face. I went with management’s decision to
demote me to a bagger (cart pusher, grocery bagger, etc.) since I really
had no choice and authority figures scared me at that time.
So that brought me to my then current position, but there were rumors
floating around that I would be promoted again. Hearing those rumors
made me do as good a job as I could, except for those few times I
snapped and, say, opened a can of fish and hid it somewhere in the
Anyway, that day my first duty was to bag the customer’s groceries and
that’s when I saw her.
COMING NEXT: Saw who?