THAT woman

Many of your have seen the Face Book post of the lady in Barnes and Noble going completely ballistic over a book called MISERY that they did not carry.

Comments ranged from "lunatic" to "crazy women."  

One comment said,  

"Can you believe that woman? She needs to be institutionalized."

Another said, 

"She had to be an actress just making a scene, no-one would ever really do anything like that"

Ugh but they do, they will and I did......

Since I no longer work I purposely go to the market when it is not busy. Sometimes though it backfires, they have fewer checkers so the lines are still about the same.  There is one checker, I will call her  “Martha” who drives me crazy.  She asked too many questions and is a busy body. 

On this particular day the market was not busy but there were only a few checkers. The lines were long….except for one, Martha’s.  I had other things to do, I thought, I can stand that woman just this one time.  She was  checking the lady’s groceries in front of me.  The bag girl was slow and had not finished bagging the lady’s groceries.  Martha finished her groceries and handed the lady her receipt. 

Then, before the bag girl can finish, Martha starts frantically checking my groceries.  I see them sliding into the pile of the first lady’s groceries.   Martha was blabbing as usual, asking,  what I was I going to use this for and would my husband really eat that?  I was keeping my eyes on where my groceries were since they were running together. 

The bag girl got the other lady's groceries bagged in paper bags and slipped them into a half full basket. She then pulled out my reusable bags and started putting my groceries into them.  Now I could tell them apart and I was concentrating on getting out my debit card, sliding it and putting in my preferred customer number.

Another checker walked up with her cash drawer and cash bag and said, “ I am ready when you are.”  Martha immediately said, “Sure!” and $150 into checking me out suddenly totaled my groceries out.  Surprised I said, “Wait half my basket had not been checked out!” 

Martha said,

“Oh that’s okay, you already slid you card so I will let her ring up the other half and your will just have two receipts. 

“What? Why couldn’t you have just finished checking me out?”

“My shift is over and I have to pick up my kids, this is easier.

“That’s not easier for me.”

“Here’s your receipt for what I rang.”  I put the receipt my closest sacked bag of groceries.  I put my debit card away, opened my Dr. Pepper, took a sip and when I looked around my $150 worth of groceries in my reusable bags, had been loaded into the first lady’s half empty basket and were being rolled out the front door with the lady in front of me.   The girl replacing Martha was now checking the remainder of my groceries. Frantic, I told her to stop. A strolling manager had realized there was confusion as he walked by and stopped.

“What is wrong here?”  Half of my groceries were now being rolled out to the parking lot.

“Martha just left in the middle of checking me out and the bag girl put half my groceries in the ladies basket in front of me.  I can tell mine because they are in recyclable bags.”  I looked again at the checker and asked her to please stop. She didn’t.

The line was once again long and people behind me were talking and giving me these disgusted looks.

“That’s no problem,” the manger said, “Who was the bag girl I will just go and get them.”  As he turned the bag girl came walking in.

“I screamed that is the girl and my groceries are gone!”

The checker had just finished with the rest of my groceries,  “$183.45 she smiles and says please slide your card.”

I was so upset by now I was shaking, “Why did you let the girl put my first $150 of groceries in that other ladies cart?”

The checker said,

“I didn’t check her out, you are my first customer.  All your groceries are right here.”

“No they are not.  Don’t you remember Martha totaled the first part of my groceries out so you could check into the register.”

“Ugh I was just paying attention to what I was doing, Martha was closing her own drawer out.”

By now the store manager had decided I was trying to steal $150 worth of groceries.  I was so angry I was shaking.  He said, “I will personally carry your groceries out.”

“I don’t want you to!  I want you to get the first $150 of groceries I bought.  I can’t afford to just throw $150 down the drain.”

He took hold of the basket the remainder of my groceries were and started to the parking lot. “Well you have all your groceries, I am sorry for the confusion.  I will prove that to you when we check them at your vehicle.” I opened the hatch and he proceeded to check the item against the second receipt and the proclaimed that all of the items were there.   Once again I tried to explain that Martha had checked me out on two receipts.

“Well then if she did where is the first receipt?”

“I put it in the bags that were recyclable to mark which bags were mine.”

“So you are saying that the first lady who had the basket with the recyclable bags in it has your receipt?”

“Yes!....ugh no!! It wasn’t given to her, it was MY receipt that I put in MY recyclable bag of MY groceries that the bag girl put in the other lady’s basket.”  
"Her groceries were the ones in paper bags, only the recyclable bags in her basket were mine."

"I am sorry but this makes no sense.  I have seen every way there is to get groceries for nothing but this is a first.  You are going to have to leave the premises or I will have to call security." With that he turned and walked away.

I screamed after him, “YOU JUST GAVE $150 DOLLARS OF GROCERIES THAT I PAID FOR TO THAT OTHER LADY FOR FREE!!!  I WILL NEVER SHOP AT THIS STORE AGAIN.

Crying, shaking and still screaming in my car, I noticed the parking lot full of horrified customers looking at me. Then remembered this WAS the only grocery store in town.

Gainfully Employed

June 15, 1974….my first day of work in the real world.  I had only finished college the Friday before.  I had suggested to my mom that I would like to take a vacation for a couple of weeks before I went to work.

“Vacation?  You have got to be kidding!!  You have been on a vacation for twenty-two years!”   My idea had not flown with her.  My father on the other hand would have hopped in the car and said, Colorado, Washington, where to?

The the next Monday I walked into the old downtown JCPenney Store in Baytown, Texas, as their new Management Trainee.  I looked over the tired old balcony store.  It was similar to the one in Texas City where I had grown up.....just not as nice.  The floors were tan, the walls were tan, tan pretty much summed up the store’s color pallet .  I walked up the creaky stairs following the signs leading  to the office.

I was wearing a “can” dress, the newest thing.  It was a dress out of a soft jersey knit that could be stuffed into a can, an instant wardrobe change you could carry in your purse.  It had long sleeves, a jaunty black and white pattern, a defined waist and a short circular skirt. I wore black hose with my I.Magnum shoes, bought in Seattle at the Bon Marche.  Perhaps the dress was a little short for work but I would be buying for Women’s Fashions so I needed to show I knew what fashion was….even if it was JCPenney! 

Heading to the back, a man in coveralls smiled really big and said hello.  He waited like he thought I would shake hands with him…..but, I didn’t think I needed to extend such formalities to the janitor.    As I entered the tan shabby little office, all the walls were covered with shelves holding box after box of shoeboxes…..the store’s sales receipts and records from I assume the turn of the century.  Desks were lined up side by side  and all the ladies were working away until I appeared.  One of the ladies turned and asked, 

“May I help you?”  

       
"I am the new Management Trainee, I need to see Mr. Heinrich.” With that everyone looked dumbstruck.  The lady smoking dropped her cigarette in the dish and instantly the whole room  evacuated.  Then I heard the scrape of a little sliding window on a closed door beside me.  I turned,  the little window framed the face of an older lady.

“Are you Janis Faye Greenlee?”

      
“Yes, I am.”

       
“ I am Mrs. Washburn. Sit down at that desk in front of you, I have some papers for you to fill out.” She scraped the little window closed, unlocked the door and handed me a stack of papers to read and fill out.  “When you finish just stay right there and someone will be with you shortly, then she disappeared behind the door.

As I filled out the paperwork I began to feel a little sick.  I  graduated from college to work in a dumpy store like this?  It wasn’t anything like the large fashionable stores in Houston Dallas, the interviewer had sold me on.  I never dreamed I would be put in a little store like in my hometown.  Just as I felt my eyes welling up with tears, the door to the office opened once again.  I turned around and a very handsome 40ish man in a stylish, vested, dark suit with a burgundy tie stepped in.  He had thick dark hair, carefully groomed, and big blue eyes.

“So are you Janis Greenlee?” he asked.  I was still trying to figure out why he looked familiar.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“Sorry  for the coveralls, a few minutes ago, I was working on the air conditioner, I am the store manager,  Jim Heinrich.” He extended his hand.

I felt my face burning red, no wonder he expected me to shake his hand…He was my boss!

“Oh, oh, I am so sorry about that, I didn’t expect you to be dressed like…. Ugh I thought you were the Janitor…..oh I didn’t know who you were.”  He started laughing and I began to relax. At that very moment the evacuees from the office started filing into the office.

“Ladies ,” Mr. Heinrich said, “This is our new Management Trainee.  Janis these are our bookkeepers.  You will be working closely with all of them on your books.  Mrs. Perry, Mrs. Jackson, Mrs. Cost and well I see you have already met Mrs. Washburn”. She had slipped out of the little room behind me.  I said hello to each of them, still feeling like a bit of a leper. 

“Janis go on with Mr. Heinrich…..you can finish filling out the rest of the paperwork tomorrow”, with that, Mrs. Washburn slipped back into the mystery room.

As the day progressed I noticed that every one I was introduced to had a sudden look of shock on their face, until we got to the stockroom manager, Robert, a large black man with a kind face and his helper, Leo.  The look on their faces was that of pure disappointment.

The day was a series of introductions and explanations of more things than I could remember in a lifetime. It ended with only the explanation of my retirement plan left to be explained and signed, which I would do tomorrow.

As I walked to my car at the end of the day, I realized I didn’t even know where I lived. I heard a honk and saw my dad wave in his Silver Buick as he drove by.  I pulled out of the parking lot and followed him to Woodcreek Village. My parents, in their haste to have me gainfully employed immediately had rented an apartment for me and rented furniture.  They had unloaded all my boxes of clothing, and other things and had it waiting for me. 

Woodcreek Village was a new apartment complex, not yet finished.  Mom had picked out my carpet, a very fashionable long gold shag.  The furniture she had rented was a white Naugahyde couch and matching chair.   In the dining area was a little white table with vinyl upholstered chairs in a plastic floral print of yellow green and orange. A friend had given me a coffee table, it was square with crinkle crack white paint and a glass top.  Through the glass you see a geometric design, holding up the glass.  As a surprise, Mom had bought me a set for my coffee table, which consisted of a large ash try (I didn’t smoke) a candy dish and a matching umbrella stand to go by the front door, all in the color theme, of flowers in gold, yellow, orange and green.  The bedroom furniture was yellow bamboo, also very trendy.

Mom and Dad stood there, beaming at all they had done, hoping I would be equally excited to jump in and finish the unpacking.  All I could say was, “I am so tired, I think I am going to bed.”  I thanked them, gave them a hug and watched them walk down the stairs.  “I will call when I get a little more settled.”  I didn't have to be at work until 1PM the next day….I could sleep now and get things in order in the morning.

I slept for about 5 hours then got up.  I started to unpack and put things where I wanted them.   The apartment was a one bedroom.  The hallway off the living and dining room was like a dressing room, with a sink and dressing table built in.  To the right were two doors, the bath and a huge walk-in closet.  To the left was the bedroom, over looking the stairway and the pool.

By daylight I had the place like I wanted it.  There was very little to do in the kitchen because I had very little.  I had shared the kitchen with roommates before and we just each brought what we had. It had a dishwasher which I learned the hard way, took a special type of soap.

By 11AM I was ready to get to the store so I stopped, got lunch,  then headed to the store. Upstairs behind Credit and Lay-a-way, was the break room, where everyone ate and also checked in and out.  There were clipboards with each person’s time sheet to sign in.  As I signed in people were going in and out each saying hi and calling me Janis.  As I sat down to wait, a couple of men were eating their sack lunches, neither acknowledged me until I sat down on the ratty sofa, which emitted a huge, loud and embarrassing squeak.  At that,  they turned around and introduced themselves.  David McCormick was also a Management Trainee, although he was about to become a Merchandiser.  He was tall, handsome and extremely aloof. He was married and had 3 girls.  David bought for children’s, piece goods, home furnishings and the catalogue department.  The other man,  dressed in a plaid double knit (2 for $100) suit was Stephen Ammons.  A “Barney Fife” type, he was married with no children.  Stephen was the Senior Merchandise Manager who bought for the men’s department, work clothes, boys and shoes.  They asked me the usual questions and when silence set in I excused myself and headed around the corner to the office. 

With the aisle visually blocked by clothing, I bumped into a large black woman, her name tag said, “Dorothy White”.  I introduced myself.   She stood there just looking at me a second and said, 

“I thought you was supposed to be a black girl?”

 “I was?” I looked at her confused.

      
“Yeah, c’mon over here.”  At her register she produced a picture of a very attractive black girl about my age.   “ This is the picture Mr. Heinrich gave us of our new trainee.  Eitha you faded or you ain’t the same girl.”  A big grin came over her face and we both started laughing.. So that was it…..everyone thought I going to be  black.

As I got ready to take my dinner break around 4 PM, Mrs. Washburn put another stack of papers on my desk.

“Janis, the last thing I need you to sign is about your benefits and retirement.  As you can see your projected retirement is June 15, 2017….”

In the 1970s when applying for a job you filled it out by hand and stapled a professional picture of yourself to the application.  Evidently mine and another girl’s had come off and not knowing who was who, the secretary had guessed, getting the two of us mixed up.

Surreal

sur·re·al

[səˈrēəl]

ADJECTIVE

1. having the qualities of surrealism; bizarre: 

   "a surreal mix of fact and fantasy"

   synonyms: unreal · bizarre · unusual · weird · strange · freakish · 

   
   

   
   

   I felt surreal was vastly overused word.  Actresses have surreal experiences, politicians and anyone interviewed on the street have surreal experiences, "whatever  was surreal".  I never used the word....until that day.

   
   

   I headed to work with no breakfast and a headache as usual.  The museum where I work is on park land (leased to the museum for one dollar a year for 99 years or something like that). It is not in the best part of town which is why the museum has been able to build such a beautiful facility.  I go by Sonic each morning to get a Dr Pepper with double shots of vanilla and cream.

   
   

   I pulled into the Sonic.   A spot was open next to a very old burgundy Suburban, as I pulled into the spot, all the doors burst open, men dressed in black with hoods over their heads, jumped out. I could see guns in their hands, no it couldn't be , but yes I did.....guns.  They took off running to the other side of the Sonic, jumping the little table in the middle and started screaming, "Out of the car! Out of the car! Out of the car!"  I was still trying to determine if there were guns in their hands....sitting in the middle of the drive.  The four thugs in black grabbed the two guys in the car, threw them on the ground and handcuffed them.  Then they picked them up and threw them in the back of the car.  A black truck had come up behind their car and suddenly it lit-up like a Christmas tree. The black truck took off, one of the hooded men jumped into he driver's seat and took off after the black truck.  As two of the men ran back to the burgundy suburban I noticed that there were only openings for their eyes in the hoods.  They jumped in to the old SUV and took off after the car and the black truck.  I just sat there shaking. What just happened? I could feel the adrenaline surging through me.  What did just happen?  Guns. Lights. Flashing. Handcuffs. Police.  The thugs were the police. 

   
   

   

   I got to the museum, still in disbelief, still shaking.  Nothing out of order here...nothing had happened.  I felt like I had experienced a bad dream.  Here though, everything was normal.   I turned on all the exhibits, and started my now ordinary day.

   
   Sitting at my desk working I felt a presence and looked up.   He stood there looking at me in sort of a dumb manner.  He was portly and had curly hair, cut in a mullet.  The old sweater he was wearing had white on the shoulder like he had leaned up against a freshly painted white wall.  The sweater, a bit too long was stretched tightly around his large belly.  His face was smooth like a woman's.
   "Would you like to tour the museum?" , I asked
   "Uggggggh, no,"  he said in a very soft, deep voice that was almost a whisper. "I'm Pauuuuuuuuuuuul."

   "Okay, what can I do for you?" He stares at me looking rather  hopeless.  

   "Weeeeell I am from Someplace secuuuuurity and I have come to check your secuuuuurity  system."          I quickly showed him where all the security computers were, thinking he would busy himself with his task. But instead he proceeded to come back to my desk with me and sit down in the chair to the side with the security monitor.

   
   

   I know nothing about the security system computers.  I told him that, but he continued to ask me more and more questions.  Then he started talking about using a wireless mouse.  I showed him my mouse was wireless, but he kept saying we needed more of them.  I finally told him he would have to come back when our director was in.  I told him she had a very busy schedule and he should call to make sure she would be here.  With his wireless mouse he played with the security monitor by my desk, continuing to tell me the wonders of his wireless mouse.  Finally realizing I was going to be of no help whatsoever, he said he would caaaaalll Lacee before he came next time.  I gave him her card and he was gone.

   
   

   With "Pauuuuul" gone. I continued working on the lesson plans for upcoming school tours.  The phone continued to ring, everyone wanted to talk to the director.  When Lacee arrived back at the museum, the phone stopped ringing.  She has a totally open door policy.  Anyone coming by to talk to her can walk right into her office...or almost anyone.

   
   

   Finally quiet, I was getting my activities planned, when a weird rancid smell started to permeate the room...I heard a man's voice say, "I am here to see Lacee."  I pointed to her office, but before he could step that way Lacee was in front of him leading him away.  As the two of them walked away I got a really good look at him.  He was wearing a Carthart cold weather jumpsuit, it was soiled with....something or somethings that smelled worse than the car with a dead body in it, Jim and I had parked next to one time.  As I looked across the museum, Lacee was leading him to the catering kitchen, he following her holding the legs of his smelly jumpsuit up and kind of waddling. I jumped up and searched for some air freshener...all I could find was some Pledge furniture polish, so I sprayed it.

   
   

   When Lacee came back, I said, "Who was that?!!"

   "He is here to clean the grease trap.  He will bring you the bill, sign it and breathe shallow."

   SURREAL