he failed into retail once more
doing about all what he knew regrettably
this time was different though
more autonomous
there were nights when his friend Willie
would bring in a small bottle of vodka
or maybe he’d bring it, they took turns
and later at night when the customers were out of sight
they went out of sight in the back room
taking swigs of the holy russian nectar
as they called it
so it was the counterculture man manning the counter
and the petty thief in charge of the register
letting people walk out the door with goods after paying
saying that the cash register wasn’t working
and then just pocketing the cash after they left
blaming shoplifters for the missing items
oh boy, what a combination they were
a winning team playing a winning hand
throwing a ball around and knocking things to the ground
off end caps, signs flying about
then somebody’d walk in and they had to stop
as soon as they left, the shenanigans would begin again
the store would close earlier than it was supposed to
and they’d sit in the back drinking
or helping themselves to parts for their cars that they needed
hell, they sure weren’t getting paid much so why not?
what the hell did the management expect?
air fresheners and spark plug wires, filters and whatever else they wanted
sometimes Willie’s girlfriend would come in
saying in her best whisper
“Hey, what’s this look like?”
squirt some mayonnaise on her tongue and stick it out
they’d disappear behind the storage room door for a while
and it was my one man show for a while
on occasion me and Willie would drive up the road to the classy nudie bar
where the women looked like movie stars
the ill-gotten funds could make you forget your nowhere nothing life
at least for a little while
