This one has overtones of day-time professionalism and was the brain-child of a particularly pernicious daydream.
Checking Others Out
Always the same gray permeating the air. I look out the window at work, and there’s the fog. I wake up in the morning, and there is the fog. All day every day, the fog . . .
Actually, it’s not so much a fog that effects the mind. It’s not bland or boring or depressing, at least, not when I look at it. Usually it’s just there at the periphery of my sight; it accompanies me as I go about my day. I focus on customer after customer and, staring at me from the outside, it meets the corner of my eye and keeps me company as my mind wanders and as I go about my business. But when I look out toward it, what I really see is the light behind the mists. I see the light from the journey I haven’t taken yet. I see my customers’ heads in the light’s direction all day every day.
In point of fact, this day has been rather long as it is, and I really can’t recall another . . .
I remember waking up, the fog outside my window. Getting ready; slippers to bathroom, nakedness to the feel of the water warm and refreshing. There was no hurry, I had plenty of time to get to work; I washed and relaxed. Brushing teeth and eating eggs and bacon, toast and fruit. I walked to work; the light was bright through the fog and accompanied me to the door of the store; I almost turned from the sidewalk to see if there was pure light behind the curtain of mist, but I entered the store instead; I knew I needed to work, I needed to earn my way to what I was waiting for, there would be something terribly missing if I explored the place toward the light just now. I need to earn my way . . .
And so my day began. It has been a long day. Aside from beginning my day, the rest is all I can remember. It feels like I have been processing customers for forever. Every one I ask the same question of, “Have you found everything you wanted?” They almost always say, “Yes.” I tell them to have a good day, and after I hand them their receipt, they walk toward the door, toward the light beyond the fog. When they disappear behind the veil of vapor I almost always seem to see the light brighten but for a second before returning to the glow accompanying me through my day.
When they say “no” it is almost always with a frown. And then I ask the next question it is my job to ask, “Is there something we can help you find?” If they say, “I don’t know,” I then offer them a job and they begin performing some task in the store if they accept. If they decline a job I send them to the manager’s office. I have sent a dozen or so to the manager’s office, some after they refused work; I never see anyone come out of the manager’s office.
Sometimes they tell me that they are looking for their daughter or son or other person they cannot find. I call for a woman’s daughter over the intercom, and after several minutes have passed her daughter appears from one of the aisles. She embraces her with tears in her eyes and I ask, “Is there anything else we can help you find.” She shakes her head with tears of gratitude, “No.” And I hand her her receipt and tell her to have a nice day. After they head outside the light becomes brighter for a few seconds and I return to give full attention to my next customer. It always makes me smile when I see two people reunited. I do hope my shift ends soon.
Sometimes, when someone can’t find a person, I have to call in a constable to assist one of our customers. They usually come in twos, and they usually walk with the customer toward the front entrance. Rarely there is a flash of light when this happens. Every now and then I see one of them return and take a place at a check-stand, but I never speak to them again at that point and I don’t think to speak to any of them thereafter; I have customers to focus on.
Sometimes people speak of misplacing vast sums of money, or misplacing their car keys. The constabulary is contacted in these instances, and the people are often walked outside, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen the light grow brighter any of the times I’ve seen that happen; it is rare I see that happen though. I’m grateful that when I’m done with my shift everything I could need is waiting for me at home; people seem so upset when they misplace something.
Some people complain of hunger and then wander off back into the store. There is always plenty of food here, no one ever asks me to help them find a particular food, they seem content to wander back into the rows of shelves in search of what they want themselves. After watching a customer or two wander back into the store I think about if there is anything I should buy for home, but I recall my shelves well stalked. I feel like there is something I am here for myself, but it is my duty to focus on my work so I return to giving full focus to the next customer; if there is something I am missing, I am certain it will come to me before I leave and I will get what I need before leaving.
Some tell me they are thirsty, and I point them toward the water fountain. They walk there, take a drink, then smile and wave at me before they walk to where the light brightens when my customers leave.
Some ask to use the restroom, and them pass once more through my check-stand once returning. It is my job to make sure I address everyone’s issues and concerns. Every customer’s need is responded to. If they require something that I do not know, I simply ask my manager or call upon the constabulary.
Once I saw a man caught for trying to steal from our store. As the constable brought him into the office, the assistant manager just kept asking him what reason he could have for doing such a thing. The man was repeatedly shaking his head while looking down through closed eyes and a clenched mouth. No one here has ever been denied, I do not know why he would have tried to steal when we always seem eager to give to the customers what they want; it is the customer service our company is built on, we never say no.
I know I have a break coming soon, yet I don’t feel like taking it. I wish to keep working, it pleases me to make my customers happy, and I feel that I am working for something; that the more I work, the closer I get to what I am working for. I just can’t remember what it is I am here earning for myself, but the job is pleasant enough, and I am grateful enough that I am closer to earning my way to what I am here for.
. . .
How much time I have spent here, I do not know, though I don’t think it can have been longer than a day; I don’t recall going home to return. I look up to my next customer and it is hard for me to ask what it is my job to ask. Recognition seeps into my brain from the distance of a lifetime called from across eternity although I know I know her at once. As the last word leaves my lips I feel the tears well to the corners of my eyes. She responds, “I didn’t at first, but I have now.” I shake from my tears as I reach her receipt out to her. As she touches my hand and our eyes do not part I know I have come to the end of a very long day; I no longer can not remember what I have come here to work for.
She does not let go my hand as she walks me passed my register and into her arms. She pulls me close and tight, whispers into my ear that it is ok now; it was ok when first my eyes recognized without recognition. I rest my head upon her shoulder as we walk out the door hand-in-hand; our receipt is shared for whatever it is worth. The world is brighter as we enter into and past the mists. I don’t remember who we were before we arrived here, only that I waited for her for I could not imagine going on without her. It is so very bright, so very, very bright. It is so very bright, and so very warm . . .
Tygarjas Twyrls Blog 