Nonsensical Tuesday...a fictional foray
In a moment of pique, I quit my well-paying job to become a greeter at WalMart. I’d always envied those grey-haired sentries, ever-present at the threshold of department store greatness. It was dawn, spring of ’01 when I first arrived; I stationed myself far enough away from the entrance to give the customers a sense of belonging but close enough to reassure them with the prospect of guidance. No one visited that first hour and I felt the stab of nostalgia.
WalMart was where I spent my youth and it’s a truism that wherever you spent your youth – be it prison, ballfield, battlefield – there becomes the talisman of sweet remembrance. I meditated on Walmart's marvelous self-containedness - there was furniture to sit on, food to eat, books to read, and aisles and aisles of self-replenishing goods. At the entrance of the in-store McDonalds sat Ronald in Eastern contemplativeness while that indefinable smell constantly triggered scent and memory glands. Customers (or clients as we were instructed to think of them as) arrived often disshelved and tattooed, with big hair and large bellies – proffering a vision of life underexamined yet lived.