People who work in convenience stores are the people for whom I feel the sorriest, at least when it comes to American workers. They spend most of their time alone, especially during the nighttime, and they have no control over whom they come in contact with during those hours. Often they get yelled at by customers, and sometimes they get held up. Also, they are often driven to tears by the boredom cause by the lack of things to do in between all of this.
I've always felt especially bad for the people working in the Irving station down the road from my house. It's pretty much just a box filled with stuff to buy that has a small space in which an employee is made to stand. It's sort of charming in its own way when you're inside it, and doesn't feel quite so small, but when I drive by it, I've always felt sorry for the person standing all alone by himself.
I go to this Irving often, since it is the closest gas station to our house and our van is a gas guzzler. One evening a week or two ago, I stepped inside and turned ninety degrees to my left. I was now at the checkout counter and nearly out the other door.
I never realized it until just now, but I love how many convenience stores and drug stores are primarily left-handed. Most often, at least where I go, the place where you pay for your items is to the left from the entrance. In a primarily right-handed world, it is small things like this that make me feel like I belong.
Anyway, I walked inside and began the routine I always performed for these people. "Fifteen regular on pump... uh...." It was then that I realized I had spaced on one of my usual preparations. I had not checked the number of the pump at which I had parked. I glanced out of the window and checked it quickly. "...two, yeah."
The guy, whom I had seen plenty of times before and whose name was Joey, had been leaning his head over the counter in a decidedly tired-looking way. He had resumed his standing position when I walked in, though he still appeared quite tired. This lined up with the fact that it was about closing time, which for this place is about 10:30. He looked at me, silently, sizing me up or something. I wasn't sure what he was reacting to until he spoke.
"You realize you're the only person out there." My wheels turned for a few seconds, and then I realized how foolish my statement had sounded. There wasn't much of a reason to point out to him which pump my giant conversion van was at, especially when it was the only vehicle at a pump. Of course, you all probably thought of that the moment you read my quoted statement.
After blinking a few times (habit), I smiled and said, "Yes, that's a good point." I paused again. "Just habit, I guess." Joey was still staring at me with an "I don't get this guy" look as I said that, but after another moment, he smiled and said, "Have a good one." I replied with something akin to "You too!" and walked out.
This break in the usual workings of my relationship with people of this occupation caused me to think about how many different types of people for which I have developed a pattern of interaction. For a New Englander, this often means that everyone one doesn't know is to be talked with as little as possible. I am a very spontaneous person...
Banana phone.
...Sorry, I've been waiting to say that since I started writing this, and that seemed like the perfect opportunity. Anyway, I am very spontaneous, and so this New Englander trait is somewhat lost on me, but only somewhat. I still fall into relational patterns with people, and fairly often. I just didn't fully realize it until that moment. After that very short conversation with someone who is just as interesting (probably more interesting) than myself, I resolved to say perfectly acceptable things to people who I had decided would not be fit to talk to. It's a form of prejudice, really; at least, that is my first impression. Yeah, irony.
A day or two later, I was dropping my brother off at a friends' house so that he could go skiing with them, and a series of raves and rants caused me to begin ranting and raving about the fact that, unlike most people much younger than me and pretty much everyone my age, I did not have a job. I was feeling very upset about the fact that I never get around to doing important life things like that (college had been weighing heavily upon me that morning as well), and I sort of took it out on Charles. However, for once (I gripe about the things I ought to do and rarely actually do them) I decided that I was going to take the initiative and apply for a job. I would go home and search for opportunities, and somehow, some way, I was going to find a place that was hiring.
At that revelatory, inspirational moment, I remembered that I had to stop for gas on the way home. Curses! Something was going to impede my mad dash towards success and the end of procrastination. I begrudgingly shifted into reverse, pulled out of the driveway, and headed off toward the Irving station.
I stepped inside the box five minutes later and did my regular routine. As I began to walk out, the guy with whom I just performed my regular routine said, "Hey, do you want a job?"
Now, when I was younger, people who worked at restaurants and supermarkets used to play a mean trick on me. I would say something witty or just plain spontaneous to either the waitress or the checkout lady, and that person would say, "Say, I like you! Do you need a job? Well, anytime you do, just give me a call." I would smile big, develop an instantaneous crush on her (usually the waitresses, not so much the checkout ladies) and then realize as we drove away from the restaurant/supermarket that I hadn't gotten her number. I wouldn't able to call her, and thus her offer of a job was null.
Years later, I realized that the person didn't even own the place, so there was no way she could guarantee me a job. I developed suspicions instead of crushes after that.
When this guy offered me a job, all of these memories came rushing back to me. I stood in silence and did some blinking/thinking. The guy took my silence the wrong way, and began to make offers. "You can do part-time, full time, weekdays, weekends, what do you want?" It was at that point that I remembered a spontaneous, routine-breaking moment I had shared with the same guy just before Christmastime. He had been wearing a Santa hat, and I had been in a hurry as I often was. I had asked for gas and given the money, and he had responded, "Merry what?" It took me a moment, but I had bitten and replied, "Merry Christmas." I'd liked the people who worked there after that.
Still, the first thing that came to my lips was, "You sound desperate." He did!
He replied, "What, are you kidding? I'm the best freaking boss in the world!" I understood two things then.
1. He was serious.
2. He was the manager, and if I did want a job there, I probably shouldn't have said that.
Still, the first thing that came to my lips was, "Oh, you're serious?" I was seriously blowing the conversation. He didn't seem to mind, and he gave me an application. He told me to fill it out and bring it back. I did and brought it back later that same day. Talk about your answer to prayer. The moment I stopped whining about what I needed to do and acted in faith, God provided. He does it every time in some way or another. I just hardly ever do my part.
I was walking to a guitar lesson even later that same day when I came upon another opportunity to practice what I had been thinking about lately. Now, I don't usually walk to the guitar lessons that I give, much less in the winter. However, my guitar lesson was scheduled at 1pm and my mom's far-away doctor appointment was scheduled about the same time. So she dropped me off at the library after handing in my application and I walked from there to my lesson, partially so that I wouldn't be super early, and partially for the experience.
It was cold, and I worried for my guitar, but it was largely enjoyable. While I was walking down the street, a man exited the house directly across the street from me and began walking parallel to my path. We walked for a few minutes without talking, and then I called, "Nice day for a walk, huh?"
He smiled without looking and responded, "Yeah, today, anyway." He was about forty-five and seemed open to conversation.
I continued. "Yeah, the sun's actually out."
"That's what I'm doing. Running." It took me a minute to realize that he was referring to my first comment, and I had said "walk," not "run." Besides, he was jogging at best. Still, I didn't want to discourage him from running, so I went silent for about thirty seconds.
He and I both turned onto the same street, and I decided to continue the conversation. "For once, I'm actually walking to a guitar lesson." I sort of emphasized the word "walk."
"What's that?" he asked from across the street. I repeated myself and he responded positively. We walked/jogged/ran in silence for a little longer, and then took off another street in different directions. "Well, have a good guitar lesson," he called.
"Enjoy your walk!" I responded. He called out something in the half-hearted affirmative and our contact ceased. It occurred to me that he had likely thought that I was taking a guitar lesson instead of teaching it. This pride-related disturbance only bothered me for a moment, though, as I reflected on my communication with this fellow creation of God. I wondered if our conversation would have any impact on anything in that man's life. It had certainly impacted mine.
Now that I am an adult and am allowed to, I shall have to talk to strangers more often. At the moment, I am going to go down to the Irving station and enter the box to talk to my prospective employer. Hopefully I'll have the job by the end of today.
I wrote this post while eating coffee cake and listening to Neal Morse. I heartily recommend both of them. Blogging takes a long time, as I am a long-winded writer. Fortunately, both of the aforementioned treats can be enjoyed for a long time.
