My feet kicked the pavement, pushing me forward as the rest of my body adjusted to the numbing cold weather and my command to function. Even with the fog being adhesive as gorilla glue, I could still embrace the harvest’s classic shades. So charming, the sedation was sudden. What started as an early morning walk to the store became a self-romancing stroll through a small but prominent town. My admiration was tedious, the audacity to galore at the fog’s determination to be invasive in all forms and fashion. No longer shivering from the cold weather, but oscillating with every nerve adjusting to the intensive weather embrace. I turn right, ignoring the scary clown I came across yesterday. The atmosphere wasn’t encouraging scary jesters. Once inside of QFC, I curiously circled the beer aisles.
6:30AM Monday morning, I could be found circling the beer aisles in QFC in Redmond, WA, for a vicious cream ale. I stopped, reflected my steps, and drew swift conclusions to purchase Reese’s Puff Cereal to qualify for cashback. A courteous cashier offered his services, and I politely accepted. I sat my two boxes of Reese’s Puff Cereal on the sliding table. After completing the payment and receiving the cashback, I noticed there were no signs leading customers in the direction of the “Money Center” or “Customer Service Desk.” The cashier advised the representative for those services wouldn’t be available for another hour. I thanked him for his notice and wandered the street for a faster solution to depositing the cash onto my debit card.
As the fog cleared, the sun’s rays brought no defense to the cold air. The Village Cafe neon “Open” light seemed even more appealing after considering how I would pass the time before returning to the grocery store. Shortly after the deliberation, I opened the Village Cafe entrance. A joyous greeting surprised me; I smiled and sat at the breakfast bar. The server’s smile glistened through her COVID mask. I felt ample; my presence wasn’t a threat. She offered me a coffee with sugar and cream. I returned the smile and agreed to coffee with french vanilla creamer. I ordered the California Benedict with Hashbrowns.
For a while, I invested attention in The Washington Post article that announced election statistics wavering. I could care less; the government broke my heart and trust in the last political election corruption. However, the two gentlemen sitting at the bar’s far-right were in a general discussion with the waitress. I wasn’t sure if I was invited to comment. The conversation dimmed, and participants left right before my plate of savouriness arrived. The toasted biscuit bottom simmered under the sweltering Avacado; flushed by the hollandaise covered eggs over easy. My prayer to God, thanking Him for the opportunity to enjoy such a meal after a weekend of fear, tears, and uncertainty. I deliberated between the Washington Post article and positive compliments and local history from the waitress. I was soon full, food compensated for, and headed for the restaurant’s exit. In no time, I was in front of the courteous cashier at QFC, ready for the customer service representative. He called, “Brian,” over the speaker, and blessed my day. Thinking of my early morning voyage, I mindlessly asked, “Do you drink beer?”. A sheepish smile curved the elderly gentleman’s face as he denied my offer. Within minutes his smile arose into a tighter curl so grave I felt guilty it might hurt. Immediately I regretted the vibe I propelled in his direction and sailed into a comatose. “Um, actually, I meant,”
Instantly, I was cut off by Brian, the customer service representative, “How can I help?” My mouth suddenly was dry, and I could swear I swallowed cinnamon. Embarrassment coiled and bent my convictions and insecurities. I couldn’t tell if I was upset because I encouraged this lie or embarrassed that an elderly unattractive man turned me down. It felt as if my vision spiraled and legs weakened when Brian asked me again, “Can I help you?”
“I would like to add cash to an online debit card. How much is your fee?” I answered Brian.
“How much would you like to add?” He asked.
“$162, how much is your fee?” I responded.
“That will be $166.”
After correctly completing the transaction, I turned to confidently correct the cashier. I thought, informing him that I am in an earnest search for a beer that tastes like cream soda, but he was not there. I walked out of the store, humiliated.
