they have a pepper bar

written at 11:01 p.m. on 03.04.04

Yeah, so it's been quite a while since I last got around to updating. Again, I must point the finger at my parents, who seem to have trust issues or something. I'm eighteen, less than half a year away from leaving for college, and I'm not allowed to know the password to the internet. In fact, I don't even know how to turn it on anymore, because my dad hid the program somewhere on the family computer. Yar. So, I'm deprived of a major part of my life, the internet. (That may sound a tad bit nerdy until you realize that I do plan on involving the internet in my career somehow, possibly as a professional web designer. Then it sounds more than a tad bit nerdy. It in fact embodies the very soul of nerdiness as we know it. Yes, I am aware of my nerdiness, and most of the time I am proud of it.)

So many things to talk about. First, let me tell you about this poor lady who came to visit New Life Bookstore (my place of employment.. a privately-owned Christian bookstore famous for over-priced CDs.. up to $17.98 for single CDs.) Anyway, I feel really bad for this lady. Her name, as I found out at some point during her stay, is Bonnie. Let me start the story from the beginning.

My brother had play practice after school on Friday. Allison and I had a presentation to complete for the next day, so we were hanging out at her house, working on that until my brother was done. Somehow, we got distracted and I wound up staying later than I should have, and I didn't pick up my brother until 5:00pm. Play practice had ended at 4:30pm, so I have no idea what he did during that thirty-minute time period, and I'm not sure I want to know. Anyway, I called my mom in a panic, since I realized that I had to work at 5:30. My house is forty minutes away from school. I was never going to make it home and to work on time. So, I asked her.. ok, so I gently demanded that she bring me clothes and food and meet me at work (The bookstore is 30 minutes from school and is only five minutes out of the way on the journey home.)

I actually beat my mother to the bookstore, which some might think is odd, since I had to drive thirty minutes and she only had to drive fifteen. However, I was speeding and made it in approximately twenty minutes, and my mother was not speeding and made it in about twenty-two minutes. Yeah, speed limits are just suggestions.

Anyway, I grabbed the oh-so-ugly company shirt from my mom, as well as a brown bag lunch/dinner, and dashed into the store without even thanking her. (I did eventually apologize for that, and I did thank her.)

After shoveling as much food in my mouth as is humanly possible, I changed shirts in the world's-nastiest-bathroom in the back of the store. I dashed up front and actually ended up being on time. I'm never on time. I'm always ten minutes late. I think my fellow employees were shocked.

So, the first thing I noticed when I got up front was that Frank (fellow employee) was helping a lady who looked to be probably around fifty years old. Beth (another employee) was dusting shelves up front, and she called me over and said she needed to tell me something.

She said, "Do you see that lady up front? She has been here since two o'clock. We think she might have some sort of problem. She has been telling her life story to anyone who will listen. Even when we're trying to get work done, she won't stop talking. We've tried politely telling her that we have work to do, but then she just harrasses the customers." She had talked to approximately five different customers and four employees. My instructions were to be kind but brief when speaking with her, as it was the new owner's first day on the job, and he might stop by any time. Things needed to look nice.

Well, Bonnie didn't say anything to me the first time I went up to the counter to get a stack of books and gift items to stock. The second time, I was holding my breath, turning my back towards her, trying to avoid getting sucked into this situation. Well, no such luck. She looked at me, and asked innocently, "How old are you, sweetie?"

"Eighteen, ma'am."

"Eighteen, eh? My son is 21. Well, one of my sons. I have two sons. One's a pilot and one's a drummer. I'm getting these books for them."

By this point, she had completely filled the counter space in front of one of the two registers at the store. There must have been almost forty or fifty books stacked all over the place.

I smiled and said, "Oh, that's nice of you."

"Yeah, well, my one son, the pilot, he's going through a hard time. He's been through a lot of losses lately. Do you think this book would be a good one?" She pointed to some book by John C. Maxwell about success. I've skimmed some of his books, and he seems to be a good writer. We stock a lot of his books, so I figured it was pretty safe to promote it.

"Umm.. yeah, that looks like a good one. It's a pretty popular book."

"Yeah, cuz he's been through a lot of losses. He lost his stepdad, his grandfather, his ex-girlfriend, one of the pilots he flew with was in the plane that hit the Pentagon, another pilot he knows died, .." A lot of people in his life passed away, apparently, which is a sad situation. However, knowing that she was not telling this story for the first time and that I was getting sucked in farther and farther by the second, I nodded and said, "Oh, that's horrible! Well, I'm sure you'll find some books here that will help encourage him."

"Mm-hmm, cuz he really is struggling. And my other son, he's a drummer for a band in down-town Chicago, and they live in a really tough part of town and..."

To spare you the details, this lady was obviously in need of help. She and her run-on sentences continued to haunt Frank and I (Beth's shift ended when mine started) for two and half more hours. She kept compiling more books. She couldn't decide which books to buy. She skimmed every single book and took notes on them on scratch paper. She clogged up the register until she finally decided to buy the books at eight o'clock.

Frank is the kind of blunt guy that will just starting dropping hints so blatantly obvious that they really aren't hints any more. He started giving the lady these "hints" that she should decide soon and go. When she did eventually get around to paying for everything, she wound up with an original total of $400. This, of course, was too obnoxious for her to pay all at once, so she returned all the books and bought $200, then returned them all again and bought $150 worth of books. The other three hundred books she put on hold. Our hold shelves were better stocked than the rest of the store when she was done with us.

All in all, I feel really bad for her, and I couldn't help but wish that there was something I could do to help her. I want to shake her sons silly and tell them to pay more attention to their obviously over-worried mother. She just needs the assurance that her sons are ok. It was so sad and sweet all at once. I couldn't even concentrate on anything else the rest of the night.

I've already asked some of my friends to keep Bonnie in prayer, and anyone else who reads this who would be willing to is more than welcome to do so. This whole situation is so troubling to me, though I'm not sure why. No one really ever accuses me of having a caring spirit, since I'm generally the one full of the sarcastic, unencouraging remarks, but this really hits a soft spot in me.

And now comes the awkward transition to a less serious topic.

"We love the subs, cuz they are good to us. Eat Quizno's subs! They are tasty, they are crunchy, they are warm because they toast them. They have a pepper bar!"

I love those little sponge monkeys. Apparently, that's what they are.. sponge monkeys. Not moldy chicken nuggets, not lumpy and disfigured hamsters or rats.. sponge monkeys. Yup. If you came looking for useless information, be satisfied.

Another pointless topic I must discuss is my senior class trip. But, I think I'll save that for another entry. I'm tired of writing, and it's eleven o'clock. I haven't even started my homework yet. Yeah.. I'm going to fail senior year. Whoo-hoo! That means another year of high school stories and minimum-wage mishaps for all you loyal readers out there. Campus nonsense will just have to wait a year. Ha, just kidding. I'm not doing THAT poorly. Do you take me for some common mortal? Nay, I am an elven princess, and your foolish mortal ways only serve to amuse me.

I am off to frolic with my most favorite hobbit, Mr. Frodo Baggins of the Shire.

Frolic, frolic, frolic. (Arwen and Frodo are seen here skipping away down a wooded lane, disappearing into the sunset. The music begins to fade, and the screen goes black.)

The end.

Too lazy to write a list of Credits. Everything important, like producing and directing, was done by me, of course... Yeah, this is just getting dumb. The end for real now.