Because someone had to do it, I was stuck working the grave-yard shift in the Gas N' Go on the corner of West and Third on Christmas Eve this year. My boss had appealed to me desperately. He didn't offer holiday pay. He didn't offer over-time. But he did threaten my job, which was encouraging to say the least.
So it went, on December 25th at 2:30 AM, rather than being asleep at home, visions of Sugar Plums dancing in my head, I was standing behind a cash register slinging cigarettes and hard liquor to what I have to assume were the less than reputable inhabitants of Mansville, Alabama.
Mansville is not the sort of place that I belong. I think the fact that someone could waltz into an area, establish a town named, "Mansville" and have no one raise an eye-brow at that for two-hundred years sums up the general population of this quaint little community better than I ever could given the limits of the English language, so I'll just allow that to speak for itself. That said, deservedly or otherwise, I do have quite a high opinion of myself when compared to the other residents of the town. I mean, I'm no Shakespeare, I'm no Einstein, but I'll say this: The fact that I'm working in a gas station at the age of twenty five is a god-damned crime.
The bell on the door jingled, rousing me from thoughts. I looked up from the counter I had been absent-mindedly staring at to see one of our regulars, A Mr. Evan Schaal walking into the store. As usual I kept an eye on him as he sauntered around the store, glancing up at me every two to three minutes as he jammed various products into his pocket. Like I give a fuck. Finally he approached the counter and addressed me, "Pack 'uh Marlboros," he grunted as he slid a case of Keystone onto the counter.
I turned to get the man's smokes and heard a quiet little voice pipe up from beneath the counter, "Daddy, will you buy me this?" I spun back around and faced the counter. I peered over it to see a golden haired little girl standing beneath the counter. I hadn't even noticed her. Where had she been? I hadn't even noticed her. She was holding one of the little wooden dolls from our frankly lack-luster toy-shelf up towards her father.
"Gloria, if I told ya once, I told ya thousand times: We can't afford shit like that right now. Necessities only." Something about this outraged me. Evan Schaal robbed the store blind every time he entered. For the most part, he knew I didn't care (or at least cared more about my physical health than I did about the financial security of the Gas N' Go) and yet he still didn't have the time to steal a dinky little convenience doll store for his daughter.
I turned and set the smokes down on the counter, "You know, Evan, it's Christmas and stuff, so if you just want take the doll, I could cover it," I said to him, doing my best impression of someone who didn't utterly despise him.
Evan Schaal stopped and blinked at me rapidly in a stupefied fashion. What I assumed was that he had been taken aback by my self-less attitude and willingness to help out my fellow man. I actually had begun to feel pretty self-righteous by the time he finally opened his mouth. "Th' fuck did you say to me?"
I stammered, clearly confused, "I-Er-I was just offering to help out Evan. I just thought, your daughter really seemed to like that--"
"Zip it pencil neck." Evan barked at me, "I don't need your fuckin' charity. My family," He beat on his chest, "Don't need your fuckin' charity. An' where I come from? That's a damn insult."
"Listen man, I didn't mean anythi--" was all I got out before I woke up on the floor. Head throbbing. Someone was flecking water on my face. I groaned, "What happened..."
I opened my eyes and was staring up at my manager, "Looks like you got robbed again, Mitch. Who was it this time?"
I struggled to my feet, "Evan Schaal."
"Again, man, Mitch, if this keeps happening, I'm going to have to let you go."
"I know, Dave. Can I just... Can I just get the hell out of here? It's Christmas. I think my girlfriend got me an ice-pack." Dave sort of laughed. He really didn't want to, but I got him with that remark. I rubbed my shiner as I walked out the door. It was a two-mile walk to the apartment. It was snowing.
Merry Fucking Christmas.
