I thought having a summer job helping build a grocery store would be full of laying cement and stuff. We'd get to work with big equiptment, machines that could crush things, but I just helped assemble shelves, and had to get up butt ass early to unload boxes.
When the store was all put together they said I had to help customers on the floor. They gave me an apron and a name tag to write my name on. I wrote "Shmoger" because I thought "Kroger Shmoger" was funny.
It wasn't till my third week into my new "Welcome to Kroger. How can I help you?" position that I decided to pretend to be a smoker so I could get away from the damn Popular Mechanics magazines in the break room.
I swear, I was so fed up with customers that couldn't form complete sentences, my boss changing the bullshit schedule without notice, get the damn chickens prepped before the lunch rush or there will be hell to pay, Refunds! Damn it! Refunds! What do you mean I have to fill out paperwork to get my money back? Just give me my fucking money!
Cute Cashier Girl (later named Jill) appeared next to me on the smoking bench behind the store.
"Fuck it's cold!" she said. I didn't realize. "Feel this" and she pressed a freezing hand to my face that shocked me, so much so that I didn't quit for six weeks. It shocked me so much that I made sure she quit with me. So much that when we both walked out of that store for the last time, shoulders touching, we walked right over our aprons on the way to the car, laughing, 35 in the parking lot, 70 all the way down Park Avenue, and when she kissed me with a suction cup pop on my cheek I took my hands off the wheel, stuck one arm out the drivers window and another out the sun roof and pushed the accelerator down as far as it would go.