Wednesday, September 30, 2009

An Almost Exact Repeat Incident at 7-11

Greetings Readers

You have read about this incident before from me at the local 7-11 I do frequent from time to time.

Unfortunately, this latest incident is no different.

I had visited this particular 7-11 days earlier, which I bought a liter of Coca-Cola for a good deal, minus sales tax, since sales tax is not included. Yet, down the road there is Jenny’s Market, which has the same price for a liter of Coca-Cola. However, that Jenny’s Market applies a sales tax.

Readers, I am sure that you have just come to the same conclusion I did over a month ago. I am all for paying the cheaper amount of Coca-Cola, especially now with this so-called recession.

I go into 7-11 with my earphones in my ears with Guns’ N’ Roses playing Mr. Brownstone in my head.

I have to admit I was in my mood that was “don’t fuck with me” and “I could care less” mood. Not a bad thing, but not a good thing. Meaning, I was in no mood to take any shit or I was in no mood to be polite. Not mean, just not polite. One might say no remorse.

“We have been dancing with Mr. Brownstone…” is what I hear when I walk into 7-11. Now, whenever I listen to Guns’ N’ Roses I feel myself get into the music and the lyrics - quite literally. I can feel the music and more importantly I feel the music take me to the music’s tone.

I walk to the refrigerator and grab my liter of Coca-Cola and walk to the register up front of the store.

As I have blogged before there are two registers and lo and behold there are two men behind the registers. Whereas the last time there were two women behind each of their registers they were operating.

Since I literally saw two people behind each register I walked to the register that is closest to the door, which is manned by a skinny guy. That is just common for me to do is walk to the nearest register to the door. Readers, the two 7-11 employees were standing behind both the two registers talking to each other from what I saw. Not what I heard what they were talking about since I was listening to Guns’ N’ Roses.

“…That old man was a real motherfucker…”

All of a sudden I saw that the skinny guy started to walk away from his register and counter. There was no acknowledgement that I was at his counter nor was there any sort of words spoken to me from the skinny guy (example: Sorry sir, but my register is closed). However, from the corner of my eye I see the other guy, a heavyset guy, move his mouth to me, but I have no clue what he was saying. Matter of fact, I could fucking care less since I was not at his counter.

Oh yes, Readers I had my Oakley’s on so I could clearly see what they and everyone else was doing around me. And of course they could not see where I was looking if I was looking around. Believe me Readers; I make it my business to know my surroundings since I tend to ride with earphones in my ears most of the time I ride. I am always taking in my surroundings and quite acute to all things around me. After all, my life on the bike depends on me being very aware of my surroundings since I am visually depending on what I can see and not what I can hear.

That skinny guy walks away from the register and counter he is/was at and I calmly wait for him to come back. Oh Readers, I already set my liter of Coca-Cola on the counter so my job as a consumer was done, in my view. Nothing new Readers, I grabbed my item and presented the item for purchase at the check out counter.

I waited and waited for about 10 to 15 seconds making no intention to acknowledge the heavyset guy at the other counter. Meanwhile, the skinny guy was tending the hot dog roller holder, but glancing at me now and then.

Well, about 20 to 30 seconds later, meaning after the skinny left the counter, the heavyset guy whistles at me, as if he was whistling to his dog. Oh yes, I heard the sharp whistle, but pretended not to hear it.

First of all Readers, I am not a dog nor will answer to a whistle like a dog. I was offended, but did not mention this to the heavyset guy.

I hear him, and I of course saw him say, hey over here.

I looked around as if I just heard him for the first time. I see him pointing and motioning that he is open and ready for me to ring my purchase up.

He points to his counter and I point to my Coca-Cola sitting on the counter. I made no move to his counter nor did he make any move to go and get my Coca-Cola on the counter.

Hell no, I did all the work by bringing up the Coca-Cola to the counter. There was no fucking way that I was going to move my item to his counter. He was going to have to get the Coca-Cola I physically brought up from the counter to ring up himself. Granted, the distance was just over a foot, but it was just a foot for him. After all, I am the customer.

I hear the heavyset guy talk, but I could not make out what he was saying. He then shook his head in a no gesture and then I heard myself say

“Well then, if you are not going to ring me up then I guess I don’t need it. And if you can’t walk two feet to get my Coca-Cola then you are going to have to walk farther than that to put that Coca-Cola back into the refrigerator.”

I did not move nor did the heavyset guy. I waited about three seconds then proceeded to walk out of 7-11 without looking back. Out of the corner of my eye the skinny guy walks swiftly to his register, most likely to ring me up, but at this point I was done with 7-11.

Eventually, I did go to Jenny’s market and pay a little extra on the sales tax, but there was a certain smug feeling on walking out of 7-11 holding onto what I believed in – and that is the customer is always right.

I feel I won that showdown that morning. However, it was brought to my attention that they heavyset guy could probably fucking could care less about me. Another friend said I actually lost the showdown since I had to go further to get a liter of Coca-Cola that morning. All these points are probably true, but the most important thing is I did not bulge on what I know was correct and either the skinny or heavyset guy had to put that Coca-Cola back into the refrigerator eventually.

I will admit though if my mood were different that morning I would have moved that Coca-Cola to the heavyset guy’s counter without any thought. I do not blame Guns’ N’ Roses. It was just the timing of the day, the music I was listening to and the way I woke up that morning - I was just ready for a confrontation. I was looking to step into “old” Daryl’s shoes once more.

Until the next time

Daryl Charley
The Fallen Athlete

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