The Biggest Freak in the Store

I made a thingamabob for my namebadge Saturday before work. It took about three minutes. The latest Club Scrap kit, "Color in Black & White," was full of goodies which made it too easy not to make something.

I used a square sticker that said "Art is Life," and I inked it with orange and pink inks. Then I grabbed a circle die-cut with the combed grey print on it and inked it turquoise, blue, and pink. Covered the whole thing with ThermoWeb Double-Sided Adhesive, trimmed it to size, and smooshed the whole thing with microglass beads.

So now I have pink shoes and some nametag bling. I want desperately to alter the front of my nametag with alcohol inks. And some collage stamping. And maybe a few strands of copper turnings.

I may as well stamp "I am the biggest freak here" on my forehead.

Yes, I covered the name of the grocery store. I don't feel like offering them any free advertising. They're not my favorite corporate entity at this moment in time.

A guy came through my line whom I recognized from undergraduate school. He was seriously the biggest freak at my entire college, and that includes the soccer team. I was nice to him when everyone else was mean; if people started picking on him (and they *did* pick on him, even at the advanced age of 18 and older), I made them stop. He was a math genius, and he had a killer crush on my sister Amy when she was still at school.

Since I was nice to him, he transferred his affections to me, which was awkward. I had a boyfriend. (Named Wesley.) I wasn't at all attracted to him, and he was undeniably strange. I always thought that if I knew anyone who was going to take a gun to a post office and open fire, it would be him. And I have a special fondness for geeks. There's geeky, and then there's psychotic, and they really don't go together well at all.

So here he comes through my lane, and I haven't seen him in 18 years or so, and I practically hollered, "HEY! [Name]!!!!! How in the world are you?"

And he stared at me, silent, with a dumbfounded expression on his face. I rang up his three items and told him the total, and he paid me without ever saying a word, while I blathered on cheerily about how nice it was to see him, and that I never see anyone from college, and isn't the weather weird, and so on and so forth.

Now, maybe he behaved strangely because he's a strange guy. But inside my head, I've got this whole dialogue going between my various insecurities, fears, and disappointments. Inside my head, I believe that this former classmate was staring at me and thinking, "Oh, wow! How far the mighty have fallen! I can't believe she's a cashier. What is wrong with her that she is actually working in a grocery store? That poor thing. Gosh, I'm glad my life isn't so pathetic and horrible that I have to work in grocery store. Her mother would be horrified!"

Of course, as I wrote the paragraph above, I realized how stupid it sounds. My mother would be very darned proud of me for being responsible enough to be gainfully employed. I'm earning an honest wage, devoid of subterfuge or shame. What I do doesn't denigrate minorities or harm the environment. I help people who need to feed their families, clean their clothes, or have a glass of milk with their Oreos.

Well... I sorta help those people. Truth is, I am a terrible cashier. I am too slow; I can't remember the PLU numbers for the produce or how to void an item. At least I made a 100 on my produce test last night.