A memory- somewhat exaggerated, mostly funny, all written simply for fun.
The scarf tugged at my throat and my neck was starting to itch. Two more hours, I told myself. Shifting my feet, my back ached from hours of standing behind the soft beige colored counter which was decorated with colorful health brochures and various hand crème samples. The man beside me showed no signs of fatigue, no signs of boredom. Confidence clothed his scruffy face and years of experience flawlessly flowed through his movements. For the new hire like myself, there was so much to remember, so much to learn, that suddenly a feeling of uncertainty captured my whole being. It was like the register to my right was looming over me, the credit card machine was watching in enjoyment the way my clumsy fingers punched its buttons, and the solid oak shelves which held product upon product, confidently held their heads above mine in pride. Feeling like a humble little store worker, I settled in for the remaining two hours at my first day on the job.
Working my first job, I did the basic things that most new hires did: wash the scuffed-up floor, front the unaligned products, help confused customers, check in shipment, assist in closings, and dust everything. Desiring to make my new boss proud and my Jesus in heaven smile, I tried to do my very best at everything I did, even enduring my Cinderella moments when a filthy mop and dust cloth adorned each hand. Smoothing out my crisp, colorless uniform, I would wait in anticipation for customers to waltz into our store so that I could smile my sweetest smile and try to help them find what they were looking for. Usually, despite my enthusiastic quests through the jungle of shelves and countertops, the customers would always seem to find their desired products before I would.
Triumphing through my many humbling moments, I survived that first intimidating week at work, and my view of my job developed into a neat, pretty notion which consisted of three distinct positive ideas; getting to help people; getting paid; and being offered a place of freedom from the monotony of my house to spend some time in a more unexpected environment. And unexpected it would become, for the mall on Friday nights is always bursting with people!
Pre-teens, Gothic’s, emos, gies, lesbians, and ten year-olds equipped with attitudes, overwhelmed the hallways of the mall on my first Friday working. I was a little intimidated at first, having a hard time concentrating on my work through the haze of the lively commotion in the hall. Girly screams echoed out from Limited Two across the hall, a store where pink and purple dominated all other colors. And gruff voices speaking loud filthy words bounced off the corridor walls and flooded into the store, leaking into my ears.
In the midst of the clamor of voices which seemed to surround our store, one voice got louder. Into our calm, quiet store strutted “Mr. Loud and Obnoxious”, a nineteen year old guy who couldn't get enough of himself. His protruding muscles, which were probably as big as his brain was small, were cocked about in silly pride. His very presence put ripples through our store’s peaceful atmosphere which had once engulfed us. My boss’s face masked with self control, instantly took charge. Giving this familiar character his full attention, my boss asked, “How are you doing? What can I do for you today?” Ignoring my manager, the head strong guy turned towards the naïve new hire and inquired forcefully, “Hey baby, you got anything in this store that’s gonna help my piss come out stronger and faster?”
My mouth hung open; no words would come. Not knowing how to respond, I simply stood there, trying to gather the right words to say. The guy's eyes light up and his face spread into a smirk. Taking satisfaction and enjoyment in my flustered reaction, he continued to ask me random perverse questions to which my pure mind could not grasp meanings of. Quickly trying grab hold of the conversation, my manager attempted-but to no avail. The hot headed man meandered over toward a wall in our store which I had not yet explored and grabbed something off the shelf. It was a small red bottle with a picture of a snake on it. Carrying it like it was his treasure, something which made him a real man; he strutted over to the counter to purchase his product. Ringing it up, I did not comprehend what I was putting into a bag and handing to him. Pausing before he left to leave some last sexual harassing words, he then left loudly; crude language and four letter words following him like a dog that he is.
There was an awkward pause between my manager and I after he tossed about his filthy remarks which hung lingurung in the air around us. Finally my curiosity got the better of me. “So what was it that he bought?” I asked. Detaching his eyes from the tattooed teens ambling past our store’s doorway, to look into my honest blue eyes, he gazed at me like I was some sort of alien who had come to work for him. “You don’t know what he bought?” He asked me in disbelief, possibly not quite grasping the concept that a nineteen year old would not know what a bottle of performance enhancers looked like or their purpose. I shrugged and smiled, secretly taking delight in the fact that it had been a mystery.
Though this is perhaps one of my silliest, funniest memories, I learned that if you desire purity, you truly have to fight for it. The world's not one to encourage you to keep your innocence or cherish your virginity, but rather insist you give it up or give it away. It’s a constant struggle.
There is a fight in life for the pure in heart to remain as they are. I’m in this fight for life, are you?
