There's a popular tweet, made more popular by my inability to shut up about it: A grocer is asked, "Can I try a grape?" by a customer was browsing the produce section.

The grocer says: "I wouldn't care if you lit this place on fire with me in it."

This is everything - I can see the grocer pressing "pause" on his music, slipping his iPhone into his pocket, waiting to hear what fresh nonsense a customer is presenting to him on this particular day in hell.

The grocer's student loans have been piling up. He needs to pay rent. His mom called, she's in the hospital. The trifecta of American bullshit bills has piled up, and he is on call to pay them.

He makes $16.70 an hour. This is above average. He wanted a new Xbox. A new TV. This is now a wet dream.

While the customer asks him about the grapes, he is somewhere else. He is in Tahiti, or Puerto Rico, or at the bar down the street. He is singing karaoke at said bar, drinking his problems into oblivion. A beer in this city costs $8 before tip. That's what he makes in half and hour of work.

While he is thinking this, and saying: "I wouldn't care if you lit this place on fire with me in it," he is imagining the fire from within, the one that keeps him coming in for his paycheck.

No: he is actually thinking about flames, about annihilation, about burning.

For this is corporate America, and he is just a player in a bigger game of grapes.

a grocer at dawn

cherishes his pristine shelves

woe the damned shoppers

. . .

I eat what others throw away

makes sense as I am labeled

garbage redundant refused

bottom bag broken pretzels

smashed cookies stale cheese

dented cans with no labels

outdated strawberry yogurt

gleaned from the bargain bin

I the grocer picking choosing

plucking through fingers wide

garbage proffered for purchase

abandoned neglected forsaken

I eat what others throw away

makes sense as I am labeled

garbage redundantly refused

As a grocer, it isn't all that bad

you see a lot of people,

and their natural habit

cell phoned, business

attired,

or in shorts,

T-s and flip flops

the way they scratch and pat

their stomachs

things they avoid

purchase of

what they can no longer have

little indulgences they divy

with pals

like fresh cartons

from our baked goods rack

you see a lot folk

run in last min

for Tylenol, Lactaid or milk

or to grab the paper

though that happens

more, and more, seldom

nowadays

we still sell flowers

and safety pins

light bulbs and small household

odds and ends,

thumbtacks

we have a substantial

array of dips, snacks and chips

in the decline of cigarettes

that's where the profit is

you'd be surprised,

or maybe not

at how it all adds up

04.23.2024

Unconventional Careers #3: Grocer challenge @AJAY9979

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I've started hearing that in my dreams recently.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The monotonous tone lurks in my ears. Around every corner.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Is this my fate? Is this what awaits me for the rest of my unremarkable life?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Your checkout has been registered. Have a nice day!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The fluorescent lights have started to burn patterns in my brain.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It hurts. Am I going nowhere?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Hey! Dude!" The man waves his hand in front of my eyes, "What's the matter with you?"

I blink, "Your checkout has been registered. Have a nice day!" With that I leap and slide over the checkout counter and sprint out of Smith's. I don't stop when the bright, California light burns my eyes. Anything is better than the fake lights. The honks of cars penetrate the busy street. I don't care. Anything is better than the relentless beeping of the scanner.

The air is clean.

The air is fresh.

I feel alive!