Say It {Emerson Barrett}

1-The Stranger At the Retail

God, I do not want to be here.

I sigh as I work the register of my stupid, low grade, dead end retail job. Honestly, it's like people don't think or realize retail employees are actually human beings.

Currently, I'm just trying to get through my shift without pulling out most of my hair from stress. I swear, if one more irate middle age mother tries to pass off her expired coupons for her children's dance recital- excuses such as, "These HAVE to work, I got them last Tuesday, a month ago! I don't think you could even understand the struggles I have, my daughters recital is tomorrow and if I don't get..." etcetera etcetera- I'm going to call security on myself, because some of these customers aren't getting out of here unscathed.

Bloop. Bloop. Bloop. I scan clothing items on autopilot. "And so I said to her-" The loud lady in front of me gossiped with her slightly shorter, yet somehow more ratchet looking friend. "Mmhmm you tell her." Her friend smacked her overpuffed lips and twirled her bleached extensions around her scarily manicured nail. Seriously, they're like talons. Who needs talons?! These women are the epitome of a stereotype, and I hated them wholeheartedly for it.

Bloop. Bloop. Bloop.

"Umm, excuse me." The lady paying interrupted me. I blinked, then forced a smile on my face."Ma'am?" I asked, fake smile in place. "What's your problem?" She asked, leaning over the bar between us, as I shoved her too small clothes into a bag. I could see every single one of her spray tan filled pores. Did I have a problem? Was my poker face cracking?
"Ma'am?" I couldn't come up with another word, so I just acted politely confused. "It's just like places like these, to hire the dumb ones." She snarked to her friend, making me want to reach over and rip off her fake eyelashes.

"They must've forgotten about you then..." I muttered under my breath, handing the buyer her bag as she sashays away like a high school villain. I bet she was prom queen. "What was that?!" The lady's more confrontational friend snapped just as they were passing by me. I winced, guess I should've waited until they were farther away. I almost broke my well honed customer service decorum.

"Have a nice day!" I smile patronizingly, then rolling my eyes as she turns away with a scoff.
Yeah keep walking lady. Not like your implants and flip flops are gonna get you any further in life either. Stretching, my vision filled with black dots from the sudden constricting of my blood vessels. I popped my back before shaking out my legs.

"JOHN! I'M TAKING MY BREAK!"

My boss just peered out of his office and snorted.
"Remember you're working a double today." His raspy voice from chain-smoking drifted through to me. And with those six words, my whole shitty day just got shittier. I always strategically take my break right at the end of my shift, so basically I leave early everyday. But I guess not today. Mandatory overtime, or disgusting stroke of karma? Only god knows.

No matter, it all works out just great for my boss, but not for me. I had a very important date with a box of pizza, depression, and Supernatural to look forward too later tonight, seeing as today is my last day in this god-forsaken place. Mentally, I start to cry as I stomp towards the automatic double doors. The few times I outwardly express my temper tantrums, they usually last about ten seconds and are filled with a childish foot stamping and jumping moment.

I step out of the building, pulling my jacket closer around my body as the cold autumn air surrounds me. I feel my fingertips go numb as I fish around in my back pocket for my cigarette. I don't keep a box with me, just the one for break-time before I leave. I know it's unhealthy, but I never really put much stock in my life. And I guess I'll need it just to keep me sane as I stay until closing today. A flick of my lighter and a deep drag, the heat seeps through my thumbnail and threatens to burn me. Against better judgement, I lean against the dirty establishment at the same time, one foot resting on the wall, and I stare out across the parking lot for the beginning of my twenty minutes of free time. I can practically hear my mothers voice in my head, echoing, "Were you raised in a barn?", and my foot slides off the wall.