The Circle K Girl

Walking home from a few rounds at the bars, hoping to meet someone, hoping to meet anyone, no such luck. I’m not really in the mood to party, but my mind is racing and my heart isn’t too far behind, so I know I’m gonna need more beer to put this night to an end. At this point in my life, I find the days are easy, even enjoyable. It’s the nights that are hard. So instead of going home, I turn around and head to the nearest beer store – The Circle K.

I go in, underneath the buzzing fluorescents, among the open isles of dirty vinyl floors and convenient distractions. There’s not a single item in this place I’d call essential to society - except maybe beer.

I go straight to the coolers, past the imported, expensive stuff, right to the big bottles of domestics – the economical route. I scan through the prices, figuring I’ll get the usual – a 32 ouncer, maybe a fourty of Bud - but there flashing in front of my face, hanging from the cold, grey rack is a bright, plastic sign calling for my attention:

$1.69
32 oz. Miller High Life.

I look over the rest of the racks. It’s by far the best bargain. So I open up the door, reach back, and grab one. “Yeah right,” I say laughing to myself, “give me the High Life - limousines, dance clubs, sexy girls.”

I walk past the fossilized, rotating dogs and place my 32 ounces of The Champagne of Beers on the counter. The cashier has a camouflage colored bandana on her head. I’ve seen her before – another night weeks ago under similar circumstance - maybe a little less lonely, a little less desperate, but still the same. She was friendly, talkative, more importantly, interesting. So, I’m hoping for more of the same, not expecting much, but then she goes right into it, “I just got back from ten days off,” she says, “Ten days off and then I had to come back to work. I was hating it.”
“I can relate,” I reply.
“And my first day back I had to train the new guy.”
“Oh yeah?” I say, getting curious.
“But he already worked three days, so I really didn’t have to train him. He was like, ‘just sit back and take it easy.’ So, I didn’t have to do anything. It was the best day ever.”
“Don’t you wish every day could be like that?” I say.
“You got that right,” she replies.
“So did you have ten days off for vacation or what?” She was sick the last time I was in, so I’m wondering if there’s something more.
“No it was vacation,” she continues, “well, actually I was visiting family. You know how that is. Pretty stressful. It was like more work than work is.” Then after a brief pause she adds, “But I got a pair of socks out of it. So that’s good.”

I let out this big laugh. It carried me all the way out the clear, glass doors and all the way home. She wasn’t even trying to be funny. That was beauty of it. She was just telling it like it is.