Friday morning was One of Those Mornings.
And there is nothing better to do on One of Those Mornings than to stop by the ol’ Golden Creme donut shop in downtown San Rafael, grab a donut and a cup of coffee, and unwind.
Unfortunately, all I had was 25¢ and a bunch of credit cards. And one thin quarter couldn’t even buy a donut. On Lincoln Ave.
Fortunately, 25¢ was enough to rent a parking spot on Lincoln Ave. for a short while, so I fed the meter and proceeded to walk to the friendly neighborhood Walgreens, where I knew I would find an ATM that belongs to my bank. I walked in and got two crisp, unnaturally peach-colored $20s.
Perhaps it was because Walgreens Corporate is located down the street from my in-laws’ office. Perhaps it was because Walgreens Corporate employed my cousin in the late ’80s. Perhaps it was because Walgreens is my hometown drug store, fighting to stave off the likes of CVS, Sav-On/Osco, Longs Drugs.
Actually, it was probably because I have been to a facsimile of an early Walgreens (or outside it, at least) at the Museum of Science and Industry; this somehow created a natural affinity for this monolithic American landscape-carver
But whatever; since a newspaper often goes well with a donut and coffee on One of Those Mornings, I figured I may as well buy it from my friendly neighborhood Walgreens instead of the faceless curbside box.
I picked up a San Francisco Chronicle, and got in line to pay.
The woman in front of me, possibly my age, possibly older or younger, had a mischievous look on her face as she sipped her Arizona Sweet Tea. Her friend, one person in line ahead of her, paid for her item and the tea drinker dropped her opened can of tea on the counter in front of the clerk, and got out her wallet.
The clerk looked awkward behind the counter, like it was his first day. He didn’t quite know what to do with the situation. Clearly, some insolent customer (customer-always-right-customer-always-right-customer-always-) decided to drink her purchase while it was still Walgreens property.
Standing up for a Deerfield, IL-based corporation, as I am prone to do: I thought, Jerk.
The clerk, meanwhile was about to cry. He scanned the item, careful not to spill tea on his clean counter. The vicious premature sweet tea ingestor carefully laid out her dollar bill and her nickel. The grin never left her face. Her power as the always-right customer was undeniable. And she loved every moment of it.
Resignedly, the clerk accepted the cash. His face said it all. Working in retail sucks. Then, in one last-ditch attempt at gaining control of the situation, he said, “I would appreciate it if next time,” he looks her straight in the eye, “you pay before you open your purchase.”
This powerless assertion of authority made the unwieldy customer’s day. “Maybe I will,” she replies, as her ever-present grin turns to a devilish smile of absolute power. “If I feel like it.”
And with that she walks out the power sliding door of the San Rafael Walgreens.
Through my eyes, I try and communicate my empathy to this unfortunate clerk, trapped in an entry-level retail job, forced to deal with such customers. At least you don’t have to wipe down ice skates, I tried to say with my eyes, and then deal with the mothers of eight-year-old figure skaters.
And at least you never watched a four-and-a-half foot tall figure skater approach the lost-and-found bin in your lobby, remove all the scarves, gloves, jackets, etc., scatter them all on the floor, climb into the plastic bin, close the top, and then open the top, wave at passers-by, and then leave the scene with all the contents still scattered— all while you watched helplessly from behind your counter, size 8 skate in hand.
But I failed to communicate all that. Instead, this is what I said without words.
Here is a 43¢ newspaper I am purchasing.
Here is a $20 bill.
Gimme a lot of change, throwing off your drawer, forcing you to call the manager later on and get more singles and fives and tens.
Have a nice day, bitch.
Out loud, I do thank him for his time and efforts at helping me purchase a newspaper. And then, I go off to enjoy my donut.
