This previous Monday night was the first night of Nutcracker practice. In Ballet, we worked on “Waltz of the Flowers” for about one and a half hours. Then I went downstairs to the small back studio with three other girls and Mrs. V.
I put on my dead pointe shoes, worked on an impossible dance for an hour and 15 minutes and went back to the dressing room.
I forgot my water.
Parched, I went outside to the cool fall air, and immediately my mother shows up.
Good for her.
I hopped in the car, looked around for a drink. Anything at all that could solve this problem I had.
Nothing.
I asked her if she wouldn’t mind stopping at the next gas station, just really quickly, so I could get a drink.
We passed about 5 of them, before she pulled in at one. I got twelve quarters, and ran in as she pumped the gas.
It took me about 10 minutes, unable to decide whether I wanted a huge bottle of water or sweet tea.
I went for the tea. Which was One Dollar and Sixty Nine cents.
I got in line, with three people in front of me. It was the only cashier open.
The woman who was checking out finished up, and started walking away. She was probably about mid or late 20’s, and as she walked away this older man whispered something to her, giggled and continued to check her out. She completely ignored him.
Then the second person, a very short man who didn’t know an inch of English, went up to the counter. The man who had whispered something to the young girl went and stood next to the non-english speaker and began talking to him.
“Hello, how are you doing?”
“…uhh… good”
“Working hard?”
“Uhh, yes”
“Barely any jobs around lately… I was just laid off. They told me they didn’t need me anymore.. I was mad. Very mad. They told me I was too old. Which I am… I am too old. Around 64, or something… yeah, 64”
At this point, the young cashier (who… if I may say so, was very, very good looking) who I could tell was listening in on the conversation, looked up at the two men, smiled and then looked over at me… smile still on his face.
The older man went on as the short man started to walk away
“I’m Claude, by the way! Have a nice evening”
He was next… and handed over the 6 pack of beer to the cashier.
“Will that be it for you?” he said, smiling still.
“Well, I want ten dollars on pump… oh, damn… I’ve forgotten what pump! pump… 8, I think”
The cashier looked at him for a long while
“Oh, fine… I’ll go check. But, for now, I want a pack of Ultra Lites” he said, pointing back to the rack of cigarettes.
Claude turned to me and smiled “I’m really sorry about this” as he turned to go check what pump number he was
I smiled and said it was “fine, I really don’t mind”
At this, the cashier turned around with the cigarettes and a huge smile. I smiled back, naturally.
The old, workless man came back in.
“I told you… it was pump eight, see? Now… ten dollars please”
“Alright… is that it?” the cashier said, still smiling, and still glancing over at me with amusement on his face.
“Nope, that’ll be it.”
After paying, Claude began to walk out, turned back to me and said “Have a nice evening” and smiled.
I was next. I put my sweet tea down on the counter… the cashier asked me if that was it, still smiling.
“Nope, that’s all” I said, of course smiling back.
“One Seventy Four”
I fumbled around with my quarters… unable to count for some reason.
I grabbed a handful, slammed them down on the counter and slid them over.
“Uhh… that should be it.. maybe not. I’m not really sure”
He chuckled, counted them, and handed one back.
He then grabbed a penny, looked up at me again, smiling.
“You want the penny?”
“Oh… no, I don’t think so. You can have it”
I smiled and left.
After retelling the story to my mother, she decided we’ll be stopping at that particular gas station more often.
I agreed whole-heartedly.
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