Note: In this occasional series, I’ll tell tales from my youth. Some will be about me, others about my friends. In this example, it’s the latter.
In high school I worked at the local Jewel grocery store. It was a pretty decent job; the hours were flexible and the pay we good. I never saw myself as a model employee, but compared to my coworkers I could be seen that way.
My friend Jim and I were both working an after school shift – which meant we started at 3:30 or 3:45. Jim told me at lunch that he wanted to ditch work so he could see Kill Bill vol. 2 which just came out that day. I wanted to see it too, but I knew I’d catch it on the weekend.
Jim had a history of skipping out on work. Always at the 11th hour an aunt would get ill and he’d have to skip work or go home early. I was curious to see what Jim was going to do for this one because it felt like his bag of excuses was dwindling quickly. We were both high school seniors and Jim’s senioritis extended to work where he didn’t give a crap for the last semester of his employment.
Before he clocked in for his shift, Jim sat in his VW Eurovan and chugged at least a two liter of soda. When he punched in, he asked where he was needed. He was told to push carts.
Pushing carts in the early 00’s was a different time than it is now. While it’s still a physical act, it was much more physical then because we didn’t have lassos to move and secure the carts. And we always moved more than five carts at a time. Often the best way to do it was with your gut.
And that’s exactly what Jim did. Several minutes into his shift, Jim intentionally and repeatedly rammed his abdomen with gusto into a cart’s handles. It disturbed whatever was in his stomach because Jim then proceeded to puke some soda-colored vomit all over the front entrance of the store. I didn’t see it myself as I was working the cash register at the time, but my bagger saw it out of the corner of his eye, grabbed all of the paper towels, left my checkout line and bolted to the doors.
While the bagger was cleaning up Jim’s mess, Jim sauntered over to the manager’s desk and then said what happened and how he needed to go home. The manager seemed a little dubious given his chronic excuses, but let him go.
The last thing I remember about the incident is Jim walking out of the store with a soiled polo and a big smile on his face. He told me the next day it was totally worth it.