Note to all who read this...
This is my first post to this site. I'm going to use this as a testing ground to solicit comments on first drafts of possible articles for my printed zine, Wasted Quarter. I appreciate any and all feedback. Bear in mind, this is a first draft so dont get so picky about spelling and stuff.
Tales From The Late Shift Part 2
In an effort to “complete the circle” that has been my life, I returned to work at 99 Spillihp on April 4, 2004 at 4pm. I made mental note of the coincidental 420 in there as I punched in for the first time. So as a sequal to the seldomly run article Tales From The Late Shift, from the way early days of the WQ, Here is Tales From The Second Shift ‘04.
So I can now add 99 Spillihp to the list of locations WQ56 was written. I’m working here again. Writing in a notebook on the same counter I last wrote on over seven and a half years ago. What a strange ride it’s been. My life has officially come full circle. The only thing that would make it more so would be for Carl to get another trailer home, and I rent a room from him. Either that or Crapids High discovers that I never graduated and must return to complete that semester of Basic History. Damn all that screwing around with the Mikes. Both McGovern and Military. This is my first employment since getting laid off last July. How strange that it comes here of all places. Though, this could be a nice little reaclimation period to working. Provided that I ever get hired by a real job again. I’m starting to have my doubts. I guess this is a real job. They are paying me real money. How much? I do not know. I never discussed that when I got hired. When Karen called, I just asked: what time? Beggars can’t be choosers, and I needed a job badly. So far the Friday afternoon shift has compared to the busiest of my old graveyard shifts. Now that is strange. Karen said the store was a lot slower now. I wasn’t expecting this. I worked many an overnight with more in cash sales than the average afternoon shift now. I was aged 18-21 then. I’m 29 now. At least this time there is no hair/earring/shaving/nametag bullshit policy to irritate the shit out of me.
[scan Tracy’s cartoon to add to this paragraph] The drawing on this page is from a cartoon that Tracy drew the other day when we had dinner at Billy’s. I asked her to re-create the classic high school Amy cartoon from memory and some clues from me. I think it turned out well, though I had to point out that the jeans she drew made it look more like she had a shaven wook. Especially when she added the “blood driplets” (from Amy’s patented wrist cutting). Now it looks like she has a leaky shaven wook. She did complete the drawing with smashing head into the headboard action, and a Hello Kitty bedspread. Though I argued a Ronald McDonald one would be a bit more appropriate.
The crippling stomach pain has returned. At least it was longer than a week between bouts this time. As per usual, I didn’t get any sleep because of it. Vomited my guts out at five this morning. Now it is just a nagging pain, tolerable to mantain life, still not comfortable in the least. I dealt with it while I filled out my paperwork and watched training videos. Other than the fact that they have to for liability reasons, I can’t see why a company would waste the time and money on something so irrellivant. Though I have to hand it to the employees of Generic Convenience Store, they know how to put on a show. Even if thier constant shuffling of roles during the “dangers of sexual harassment in the workplace” video grew confusing and hard to follow. And it was really hard to suspend reality with the unaturally calm armed robbery video. I wish I would have brought some popcorn, it was an hour or so of better TV than the networks have offered up lately. I passed on watching the Drug Awarness epic. I’m aware of drugs. At nearly 90 minues, I couldn’t justify sitting through that much “Drugs are bad! Mmmmmkay?” Though something tells me it wont be long before I throw it in out of boredom some night.
Fast forward two hours. Sonya has changed the price of gas. A visiting Dr. John, Sargent Sweet Ass and I laughed at her while she did it. Of course such long time 99 Spillihp traditions as food toss, ice cup and a little cooler “Peter North loves your doughnuts” were observed. Though we decided to make fake vomit some other night. Right now I’m watching the Twins game in Karen’s office. The Twins are playing Cleveland. CC Sabathia is really fat. Coco Crisp is a funny name. It is sure nice to have baseball back. Seems like just yesterday I was sitting in John Wriesner’s driveway listening to the World Series. We didn’t have TV back when I first worked here -hadn’t been invented yet. But I did have then something I dont have now. A CD player. TV sucks. I’m really sorry but it does. There is so much total bullshit on there that I would gladly trade both TVs here for a CD player. CD’s would help me write more, TV just makes me stare like an idiot when I see it. I can’t even get into radio, far too irritating.
A really gross pair of stretch pants just waddled in. Black customers always pre-pay for gas and smoke menthol cigarettes. I asked Sonya if she ever sold a pack of cigarettes to a black guy (or black girl) that weren’t menthol. She said she couldn’t honestly remember. She then offered a theory as to why that is. People learn to smoke what is around them when they first start. Argumentative Honkass questioned her that it -if true- must have been one black guy a long time ago that started this trend, and they all learned from him. She wouldn’t bite and went back to personal phone calls and Bachelor Joe Average Millionaire Idol. God I am bored. I’ve got the time, just nothing to write about. If I was smarter, I could write up drafts of Wasted articles from my head that I want to print. But it’s too hard to write linear in this format. I tend to jump around so much when I’m writing something dedicated that it either gets overwhelming on paper, or I lose all focus completel. Stream of Conciousness writing is a fucking trap. Once you get settled in to that format, it’s really hard to break out of it when trying to write differently. On the computer it’s easy, you write a line and move it where it needs to go. In a notebook, you’re pretty much confined to the flow of the page. Or you have paragraphs with tons of footnotes spread throughout. As my notebooks tend to look. Well, I could write about how frustrating that pack of Pall Malls was to ring up. (Our cash register has “hidden” keys, just like playing a video game!) My mission for tomorrow night? Find something interesting to write about.
Thursday April 8, 2004 5:16pm
How to close 99 Spillihp...
Lotto reports!
*Reports > Financial Reports > Daily Accounting > Send > Print
*Scratch Games > Daily Activity Reports > Send > Print
How to clear
*Total > Print > Clear
Change date on imprinter
Write down scratch ticket numbers
Car Wash Reports
*Menu > Shift Report > Print & Clear > Confirm
Empty coffee pots
Print Veeder Root reports
Add up gas coupons, don’t add cigarette coupons
Print Shift Reports
*Report > Clr/Ent > Enter > Clr/Ent x2 > Enter
Mop
Count Safe
Count Cigarettes
Throw out newspapers, save bar codes from Star & Tribune, header for Pioneer Press
Punch out, lock doors & set alarm code
Walnut Cheese Weekend
Crazy Carl just stopped by and hung out for a few minutes. This was after I had to deal with an old woman that couldn’t figure out how to get the car wash door to open. She kept mashing her fingers into the keypad trying to get it to work and got it to the the point where it said it wouldn’t accept codes. I pulled the garage door opened by hand and it looked like it would work, so I sent her in. As I walked back up to the station I pictured her becomming trapped inside. She’d likely be there a while before I knew about it too. I secretly wished for that to happen. Just now as I was outside smoking a cigarette, some black dude couldn’t figure out how to pump gas. He started yelling at me so I walked over and showed him how. He pumped his $6 and gave me the cash. I walked back inside and rang it up. In a way I think he was my first full service customer. This is my first day working here alone. It needs to be dark out. I got used to having Sonya here to complain about being pregnant or her teeth or whatever was bugging her that day. I tried listening to the radio for a bit. The second song the played was the Alice In Chains song from the Clerks soundtrack. Yeah thanks, needed to be reminded of that... John needs to come up here so we can make rude comments about the customers. I need a little of that today.
Thursday night just before we closed, a bubbly little Asian chick showed up. Jen and Trav had stopped up and were waiting for me to close so we could hang. She came in and bought some gum and went back out to a car. The car was still there with her and some dude in it when I went out to smoke a few minutes later. I looked out at the lot and saw that Ice T himself pulled up on pump six. Just as he got out of his car (a shiny Cadelac), the bubbly Aisan runs like a three year old squealing with glee to him. The car she was waiting in left. He shouts to me, asking if we have a restroom. I give the same answer I do at least 15 times a day. “Key’s on the end of the counter, restroom is at the car wash building.” She runs back, gets the key and goes to do her thing. When she was done, her and Ice T left together. He bought nothing. Trav instantly propsed the idea that she was a whore and the black man with all the gold and the long greasy hair was her pimp. We reasoned that she got her ride up there to meet him, and Ice T made her wash out her crotch in our restroom before they left. While that might not be true, that’s what I’m going to say it was.
A truck with three high school kids just came in. They each complained about our high prices and poor candy selection. I told them to go to Super America then. They’re probably cheaper, and at least five times as large as our store. Two of them were wearing class of 2006 Blaine high school letter jackets. And the red head was really hot. I found some mini Hershey bars stashed under the car wash printer. I ate the three Krackels. The paper has run out on pump six now as three diferent people have told me. Wow, here’s an old song that I don’t think I’ve heard since perhaps the last round of gas stationhood. Sitting on the 99 Spillihp stool, tilted at a 45 degree angle, writing in a notebook... It’s all sorts of 1995 in here! Since I’m writing, I should make note of that one lady that was in here last Friday night. Sonya pointed her out to me while she was pumping gas on three. She was well over six feet tall, mid to late 40’s at youngest, white and dyed purple long stringy hair. In addition to gas, she also bought two big bags of Doritos and some Mountain Dew. Whole lotta Dungeons and Dragons going on... I have nothing else to write about, so I’ll watch Cops.
I was going to go smoke, but a cuntstomer pulled up on pump six. In the past I’ve been asked to explain the difference between customer and cuntstomer. Simple, A cunststomer is simply a customer that comes in at a time where you have something more important to do. Like write or smoke a cigarette or hang out, sometimes even do work. Everyone else is simply a customer. After a few more customer delays and a delivery from the gas truck, I finally got to have my cigarette. Oh no I don’t! The door accidentally locked behind me with my keys inside. I had to crawl over the counter to get back there. Bet that looked pretty cool on the security cameras they now have. Then after the first drag, another cunstomer. Damn old people. This job would be great if it wasn’t for the customers. Fuck you Kevin Smith, I was living Clerks before you made it pop culture. “Can I have two nickels instead of a dime?” What? Why in the hell would that matter? That is one of the oddest change requests I’ve ever had. What can you possibly do with two nickels that you can do with a dime? Two more people just came in. I swear they just know. No one came in while the gas truck was here for christs sake. Today is Easter by the way. In honor of that occasion, I present the Dr. John Wreisner Easter Quote. As scribbled in my notebook, Easter 1995: “Dead guy pushes a rock day. If Jesus sees his shadow, another 2000 years of Christianity!” Quite possibly one of my favorite quotes ever.
Mr. Plow just left. Every time I sit down, more people come to interrupt. Don’t they understand that I’m trying to write something here? At least it’s a nice cloudy overcast day. Kind of cool, slight wind, no blinding sun in my face. My God King of the Hill sucks. Yeah, it accurately depicts life in Texas I’m sure. But how entertaining is it to watch Hank Hill’s backwards ass logic and sense of morals that are mind numbingly ignorant be presented in the form of the hero. Only time the plot shifts is when they need to add someone of even more insanse and retarded views and morals into the picture for Hank to clash with. The reason Hank Hill worked as Tom Anderson (face it, they’re the same character) on Beavis and Butthead was you were supposed to laugh at him. That doesn’t translate into a 22 minute episode very well when you reverse it. Network television is so shitty. How many more bad reality shows can they crank out? Now we have one where they take an ugly chick and turn her into a hot chick. Free plastic surgury, free weight training and therapy so they can understand why daddy didn’t love them. (Or loved them too much...) Why are they doing this? Can anyone defend this with a good reason to watch this bullshit? Wow, these ugly dumpy chicks suddenly aren’t! What action packed gripping television! Sign me up! There needs to be more terrorist attacks on America. There is so much dead weight in this country that it’s dumbing us all down. OK, no more TV... I can’t handle that crap one minute more. I need a fucking CD player more than my next breath.
Just had more people that couldn’t fingure out how to pump gas. How do you drive a $30,000 SUV without knowing how to fill the damn tank? I guess that question kind of answers itself. I’m being paid for my boredom. I’d rather be being paid to fix fucked up PDF files and proofing flight training manuals. We have no customers now. That’s a good thing. Wait, one just pulled up with a vanity plate that reads FREAK. That doesn’t really work. A true freak wouldn’t advertise it -especially on something as arrogant as vanity plates- he would just know. Wait, it is a dumb looking chick. Well, that explains a lot. I think I’ll make some microwave popcorn soon. Wait a minute... hot ass on pump five! Damn, she left without coming in. Some other hot chick was with her too. They tend to travel in packs. I did have a guy come in and start a conversation with me about the Montreal Expos. Gave me a “You like the Expos?” To which he recieved my standard reply to that question, “Somebody has to.” At least this guy was able to back it up with some knowledge of the team. I was briefly impressed. Shortly after that, a customer came in and bought a Cat in the Hat hat. Leftover peice of marketing from that terrible Mike Myers mess last fall.
Looks like it’s going to dump a ton of rain soon. I hope it does. Falling rain blurs out Coon Rapids. Customers need to leave so I can have a cigarette. It’s 4:20 in Denver. Imitation Bill Goldberg is on pump 5. It’s still not raining. A very weinery guy came in and explained to me all the different gas stations he wont spend money at because they get thier gas from middle eastern countries. he rambled on and on for a good couple minutes at me about the moral implications of where you spend your dollar vs who that company supports. “But I like Phillips. They get thier gas from America!” He looked crushed when I told him that Phillips sold the Minneapolis area corporate stores in January. I had no idea where our gas is coming from now. He then told me that he would go home and look it up on the internet so he could find out. I’m going to continue not caring since it’s pretty point to do so. My next customer handed me $21.50 for $16.50 in gas, then ask me for “a nicer five” as change. And how anal was she about her money? She haphazzardly folded it unevenly as she stuffed it in her purse. Do you people just go out in public looking for things to bitch about?
Weather update. It’s mafakken windy out. Still no rain though. I just had to run down to the store room to shut the door. The wind was whipping it against the building. The car wash tearer downer people left it hanging open when they finished for the day. Those dickheads... gave me a chance to smoke though. I just noticed that Phillips no longer has an American flag outside. Now I like this job even more! We used to have a pretty large one. I still have one of our old ones. I used it for both a bedspread and as wallpaper. My American flag even has a jizz stain on it. Bet that pisses a whole lot of people off! Now I just sold 14 packages of chocolate mini donuts to one woman. She wasn’t even fat. Pisses me off though, I wanted a package of chocolate mini donuts for myself later tonight. The sun is about to go down below the bank of clouds over Life Time Fitness. I guess I’m not going to get my torrential rainstorm tonight either. Now it’s going to blind the fuck out of me for the next twenty minutes. Wish we had some decent food here... An hour or so later, I settled on Doritos. None better eats can be found in any convenience store... Doritos!
It’s 4:20 in Amsterdam. In honor of that, I should go smoke a cigarette. But people have pulled up on pump 4. It’s a big ass Ryder truck looking for diesel gas, which we dont sell. The chick who asked me got all whiney when I said no. “But I dont have any gas left?” That’s not my problem. And we dont sell diesel. There’s not a thing I can do to change this. You can leave now so I can smoke. But the truck just sat there for an additional ten minutes. My reasoning was they were waiting for me to run outside and tell that that I was just playing a joke on them. We did have diesel gas, I was just hiding it. I’m such a kidder. So much for smoking, I took a piss instead. Damn people messing up my plans... A note on the register reads: “Cheese is GM.” I’ve yet to think of anything witty to write under that. Give me time, it’s coming. Earlier tonight I watched a little brown mouse running around the floor of the cashier area. He ran from under the front counter to where the brooms are arranged next to a space heater in the corner. Later I watched him run around by the safe. I left him a Dorito. A really REALLY intense dude came in mumbling as he dropped over $60 in gas, cigarettes and random crap. Among the things I barely understood him talking about: a broken tooth, phone cards, selling computers, places that sell cigarettes cheaper than we do and his friend.