The College Experience ~ Dipping Back Into Dorms

Gemini Begins
"I Need a Patch for That" Day
National Waitstaff Day
UN Work Day for Cultural Diversity for Dialogue and Development
Anniversary - American Red Cross
Victoria Day (Canada)

 

Ever since my freshman year at the dorms, there’s been a horrible lady working at the dorms’ little gas station-type convenience store.  This lady has the disposition of Oscar the Grouch, except without the sunny parts. She’s a bit past middle age, and she always has beautifully done nails with bright colors and little pictures on them. On bad days she sits there all surly and scans your items and gets put out and sighs huffily if you throw off her groove, which you inevitably do—you’ll pay in cash and she thought you had a card, or you’ll pay with too large a bill, or you’ll bring your own bag and only mention it when she’s halfway through putting things into a plastic one. On good days she does the same thing, only she calls you “sweetheart” in the exact same tone of voice she uses to tell you that you can’t take a goddamn water bottle in because she’ll charge you for it when you’re coming back out.

 

I absolutely love her, and I’m not sure why. I’m always obnoxiously cheerful to her, and chatty, and I notice her pretty nails and pretend I have no idea she’s being witchy, because I don’t think she has any idea. I think she’s trying to be nice and failing miserably.

 

Today, I brought some things up to her—a few cans of tuna, soup, milk, and some yogurt*—and instead of her usual grunting and grumbling, she said, “I’m not gonna charge you for one of these tuna cans. You left one here last time after you paid.” The last was an accusation.

 

“Oh,” I said. “I wondered where it got to; I thought I was just being flaky.”

 

“Well, you didn’t come back and didn’t come back.  You never came back.”

 

I shrugged. “I’m having trouble keeping track of everything this term.  I’m glad you noticed, though. Nice to know someone’s got my back.” We had finished the transaction—“I’m paying in small bills today!” because she was pissy when I paid with a $20 once—and I was putting the stuff in my canvas bag.  “I’ll just be a second.”

 

“You’re fine. Take all the time you need,” she snarled.

 

I took a minute or so, then waved and thanked her.

 

“See you later, sweetheart!” she hurled after me.

 

How can you not love that?

 

 

Also, on the way out, I stole some Laffy Taffy from Jesus.  There was a guy from Campus Crusade for Christ setting up a table that had flyers and candy on it, and I saw the candy first and only when I asked found out it was to promote a motivational speaker who was shot when he was eight and is now quadriplegic and goes around telling people that God loves everybody.  So I took the flyer and the taffy and told the guy to thank the speaker and then threw out the flyer around the corner.  I feel sort of guilty because it was a waste of good candy; I’m a die-hard nonbeliever and taffy won’t change my mind, so it wasn’t fulfilling its purpose.  But I’m sure God loves the taffy anyway.

 

 

*I have recently discovered that yogurt, despite being milk that has gone bad and then been given fruit, is actually rather palatable.  I did not know this for many years because the texture of yogurt, in a completely literal and nonmetaphorical sense, makes me gag.  It still does, but I work around that, same as I do with pudding and bananas.