Graveyard Shift
The storm had finally hit. It had been impending for almost a week now. Anna sighed lightly as she turned on her windshield wipers. Her headlights had already been on. She hated working the graveyard shift. The late hours brought out all the weirdos, ya know, the hobos, the drunks, the people who talk to themselves all the time, the little old ladies with the dogs in their purses and the bad hair dye jobs. She couldn’t stand it. She hated all the different people. Hated them so much. It’d be a terrific night alright. Swell.
She sighed again as the rain hit the pavement harder. She muttered to herself as she turned up the speed of the windshield wipers. This was her night off, well…was supposed to be. She was supposed to be home right now, sitting on the couch and laughing at all the poor saps that had to work the graveyard shift on such a miserable night. Now she was one of those saps. Just perfect. She wanted to be home, watching one of those really sappy movies on Lifetime or WE. One of the women’s channels. Anna liked those movies. They were easy to laugh at. So realistic and all. Yeah, right. The women on those shows…they always have abusive lives (great genus for a woman’s channel, right?) and then within a week or two they find the absolute perfect guy (with the rippling abs, of course) to live happily ever after. Did people really think that would happen? It was funny. Kinda pathetic, but funny.
She pulled into the parking spot she always did at this place while working the graveyard shift. It was the darkest and most un-seeable spot in the lot. She wondered why she did it, but then again, it did make sense in a weird way. Her car sucks. If it was stolen she could take the insurance money and get a new one. Or a newer one. So far, none of the wierdos had taken it yet. Figures. They can’t even do that right. It was gonna be a long, long night.
The convenience store where she worked use to be a gas station and convenience store combined. The gas pumps were useless and broken now, like most of the rest of this lame town. As Anna opened the door, the annoying little bell rung its cheery little chime to announce her arrival. She had to actually fight off the urge the rip the bell off its out-of-season Christmas cord, throw the stupid thing down on the cracked cement, and stomp the happy ring out of it. That damn bell had haunted her nights of work for almost a year now.
“Anna! Is that finally you?! You’re late!” The voice of her manager came gruffly from the back room. She sighed and moved her backpack off her shoulders and plopped it behind the counter.
“Nope, I’m a robber here to steal the thousands of dollars this place must have. It looks like the register should be stocked full of money. I mean, look at the quality of the products you sell here.” She shook her head a little and sat on the cracked cushion of the stool behind the register. “And I’m not late. This is my day off, I’m actually twenty three hours early.”
“I asked you to be here by midnight and its 1:45 am. You’re late.” He came walking out, his large body rocking back and forth as he waddled down the main aisle towards her. It disgusted her how little he took care of his body. His breath always reeked of cheap cigars. Wouldn’t you think if you bothered to smoke those things that you’d at least bother to pay for the good ones? Gross. He couldn’t even keep his clothes cleaned. He always had sweat stains at the armpits and down his back. It always looked like he had just finished a workout when all he ever did was sit and complain. Whatever, at least he wasn’t the head boss here. Otherwise she would have been jobless ages ago.
“I’m here as a favor to you, ya know.” She shrugged at him and pulled a Cosmo magazine out of her backpack and a bag of Cheetos. She looked up at him and raised a brow. “You’re not staying, right?”
He rolled his dull blue eyes at her then shook his head “Just make sure you change the ice at 3:00 and make sure the bathroom is clean enough at 5:00. The morning shift will be here at 5:30. Don’t mess up this time, ok?” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer as he trudged out the door, opening a broken umbrella to shield his enormous bulk from the rain in vain, and sending the damn bell into its happy little song.
“Sure thing boss.” She flicked the door off after it had closed behind him. It was stupid to keep this place open 24 hours a day. Not like she’d get any customers or anything. It was pointless, but at least she’d get overtime for this. So whatever. She pulled the head phones out of her backpack and put them on, turning the volume wheel up as high as she could stand it.
Before opening the Cosmo she looked around the store. It was the same as always, of course. The flickering florescent lights only enhanced the pitiful state of the store. The filthy shelves held out-of-date cookies, chips, and other snacks that could clog an artery faster than you could say heart attack. The fridges against the back wall were full of flat soda and beer. Beer was the only thing that this place really sold. Stupid hobos could afford a six pack every night but couldn’t find a place to shower once in awhile. The only thing about the bums that she liked was the fact that they matched the décor. That was it.
Opening the Cosmo at last, she flipped through the pages quickly, scanning over the glossy pictures of women that looked like they would fly out the window with the next strong breeze. Did guys actually think this was healthy? These models dodn’t look like they eat more than a lettuce leaf a week. And they were always so damn happy. What could be so thrilling about having your face plastered all over the country over a quiz called “Top Ten Things You Can Do To Please Your Man”? Maybe they didn’t have the brains to think that far ahead. The photographer said smile and they did. Even in their “pouting” pictures the models always seem to be happy. A happy pouter. No way she could pull that off.
She looked up from her magazine at the clock. The clock was one of those that had a florescent tube around it. It used to be red to match the Budwiser logo on the white background, but now it flickered endlessly a tired and depressing pink. The logo had faded to pink too, so at least you couldn’t say it clashed. It was only 1:50. Five minutes. That was it? It really was going to be a long night.
She took her head phones off and set them on the counter, not bothering to pause the song. As Vivaldi’s Largi E Pianissimo Sempre blared out of them, she walked down the center aisle into the backroom, leaving the front counter unattended. She used the employee’s bathroom then came back out, rubbing her still soapy hands on her worn, black jeans. As she made her way to the counter again she allowed herself to have one of the cold Cokes from the one fridge that actually kept regulation temperature. After taking a long guzzle that drained half the bottle, Anna let out a tummy trembling belch. Lovely.
Feeling in a slightly better mood after her gaseous announcement to the empty store, she sat back on her stool, and picked up her headphones. She could hear the Largo E Pianissimo Sempre fading into Danza Pastorale: Allegro and a smile found its place on her dark colored lips. Classical music was one of her secret passions. It didn’t really fit into the look she worked so hard to get. If her friends found out about it, she’d never live it down. She was part of the “gothic” group at school. Not like the group thing really mattered to her, but it was nice not to have to eat alone at lunch in your senior year. What kind of loser would do that? Not her.
Before she even got a chance to put the headphones back on, however, head lights cut through the dirt of the large picture window that faced the parking lot. A moan of irritation couldn’t be held back. So much for the good mood. She hit the stop button and the hard work of Vivalidi cut off instantly. Such a waste. She was flipping through the pages of her Cosmo when the guy finally made it out of his car and into the store, and the bell from hell sang out again.
“Helluva night, huh?” The guy looked to be in his late 20’s and had a newspaper over his head to protect him from the rain. It looked more absurd than the broken umbrella her boss had used. It also seemed a bit girlie. Like he didn’t want to mess up his hair or something. Lame.
“Yeah, sure is. Haven’t ever seen rain before. It’s such a novelty. Do you have a camera? We should take a picture of it and send it into the National Inquirer. The headline would read: ‘Warning! Strange moisture in the air causes loss of hair control!’. We’ll be rich!” She hadn’t even bothered to look up from her magazine.
The guy just scowled at her. “Well, aren’t we friendly tonight?” He moved to the last aisle, looking at the crushed and slightly disorganized boxes of Little Debbies. “Hey, you do know that most of these are past their expiration dates, right?’
“Yeah, I know. Hey here’s a fabulous idea! Call the health department! Shut us down! That’ll sure show us, won’t it?” Again she didn’t bother to look up at him. He was being a tight butt. “If you don’t want to buy them, there is a store a few blocks down that will open in about,” she glanced at the clock, “five hours. If you can’t wait for your snack till then, you’re stuck with me. I’m totally thrilled, can’t you tell?”. She flipped a page in her magazine and crunched on a chip.
“Jeez, forget it, ok?” He grabbed a box off the shelf and walked to the back fridges, equally disappointed by the selection there by the looks of his face. He walked back up front and put the snacks and a six pack of beer on the counter. She knew that was all that would sell. What a pain, now she had to check ID. Lovely.
“I need to see your ID.” She flipped another page in her magazine and stuck a stick of gum in her mouth, brushing away the chip crumbs. She chewed the gum a little and looked up at him. “Well?”
The only thing she saw when she looked up was the end of a gun barrel. She looked further up and popped her gum inside her mouth. “The ID needs to have a picture, maybe your license?” Was he really going to rob her? How stupid was that? Didn’t he see the sign on the door about the register only having up to $50?
“I don’t need an ID. Open the register. Don’t make a fuss about it, understood?”
“Sure thing. It’s not my money, I don’t care.” She blew a gum bubble and let it pop before pressing the open button on the register. It slid out with its normal dexterity, and got stuck halfway. She looked up at him again and shrugged. “If you can get the money out, it’s all yours.” She looked back at her magazine and flipped another page, once more snapping her gum.
He just looked at her with astonishment for a moment then reached over and grabbed out the one twenty dollar bill and the few ones in the drawer and stuffed them in his pocket. He tried to move the tray out of the register but it was stuck in the drawer. There were a few checks under there and one of the odd two dollar bills she hated so much (where are you supposed to put them? They didn’t make a slot for them in the drawer) but that was it. She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Will that be all…sir?” She made sure to put the emphasis on the word sir. What a dork.
He looked at her like she was insane then picked up the beer and the frosted snacks and walked out. She called after him, “Hey, could you possibly take those bells with ya? Please?” Her question was answered by the slamming of the door and the chorus of bells. “How freaking rude.” She shrugged and put her gum into the foil it had come in, put it in the register, then closed it. She’d call the cops a little later. No hurry. For a twenty dollar crime she doubted they’d put up road blocks for the guy anyway. Not worth all the paperwork. The rain started to slow down a little and she sighed, looking at the clock. It really was going to be a long night. It always was with the graveyard shift.
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