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Rated: E · Short Story · Melodrama · #1090941
A Retired Man Shops At Wal-Mart.
At Wal-Mart


Jeremiah Grumpus broke down and went to Wal-Mart. A lifelong member of Retail Clerks Local 486, he had worked his way up to Assistant Dry Goods Director at Goode’s Grub `N’ Grocery. When Wal-Mart brought its union-busting act, low paid clerks selling low cost merchandise, to Millburg, he had felt the pinch. Many customers had begun shopping there, and Mr. Goode had laid off several employees. Jeremiah had seniority, so he kept his job, but felt for his ex coworkers. Some, in desperation, had taken jobs at non-union Wal-Mart and made half what they did at Goode’s.

Now Jeremiah was retired, trying to get by on a pitiful pension and Social Security. Thank heavens he had paid off the mortgage on his modest house years before. Even so, the money never lasted to the end of the month. He had a few dollars saved up, which he had planned to use for a leisurely trip around the world. That trip was rapidly receding into fantasy, as he had to dip into his savings every month to pay the electric bill and buy food.

So this fine April morning, he bundled himself up unseasonably in a gray coat and fedora, and wrapped a scarf around his neck so it covered most of his face. But if ran into someone he knew, the person would probably recognize him anyway. He said a silent prayer against meeting an acquaintance.

He parked well away from the door, in front of First Millburg Bank. If anyone recognized his beater, he would assume he was at another store in the mall. At least, so Jeremiah hoped.

A woman with two boys in tow - Twins, Jeremiah thought - Came out of the door as he entered. He didn’t know the woman, but instinctively ducked his face down so only his eyes and forehead were visible.

A pimply kid worked the checkout stand inside the door, waiting on an elderly couple. Neither the kid nor the couple so much as glanced at him. Where was the greeter? Wasn’t Wal-Mart supposed to have a greeter at the front door? Well, maybe it was too early. He grabbed a shopping cart, surprised to note there were only about twenty of them. Goode’s always kept a hundred or more.

A quick in-and-out, he told himself. Grab what you came for, pay, and get out. The narrow aisles and odd juxtaposition of items confused him. Whoever heard of film and batteries on the same shelf with peanut butter?

He found the aspirin, a birthday card for his niece, and a few groceries. Now where were the laxatives? Wouldn’t you put them next to the Tums? He saw a man taking bags of peppermint candy from a tub and hanging them on hooks. “Excuse me, sir.”

The man turned to him and Jeremiah froze. It was Jeff Willits, who’d been on freight crew at Goode’s! Had the man recognized his voice? Horror leaping to his throat, Jeremiah turned his shopping cart around and hurriedly left the aisle. Oh, please don’t let him follow me!

He saw another fellow straightening up the small appliances. Maybe it was the same kid who had been checking when he came in. At least he was a stranger. Jeremiah pushed his cart down the aisle and said, “Can you tell me where the Milk Of Magnesia is?”

The guy turned toward him, his lip curled in a sneer. “Do I look like an information kiosk, Grandpa?” he asked. He waved a hand vaguely to his left. “It’s over on aisle six, next to the adult diapers. Ya better grab some a those while you’re at it.” He returned to his work.

Jeremiah found the Milk Of Magnesia and headed toward the front of the store. A woman manned the checkstand now. There were no customers, and she seemed to be engrossed in the warning labels on the cigarettes behind the counter. Jeremiah unloaded his purchases onto the counter. “Hello,” he said.

The girl apparently didn’t hear. She scanned the items and put them in plastic bags, never making eye contact or saying anything. Her nametag said, “Anne.” Finally she did speak. “Twenty-nine thirty-eight.”

Jeremiah gave her a ten and a twenty. Good prices all right. He had paid forty dollars for pretty much the same things at Goode’s last week.

She gave him sixty-two cents change and silently pushed the plastic bags toward him. “Have a nice day, Anne,” Jeremiah said brightly, picking up the bags.

Anne look up at him sharply then. He had the distinct feeling she was surprised he knew her name. As he turned away and stepped toward the door, she called, “You too, sir.”
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