It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

Because businesses remained open on Thursday evenings in my thriving childhood metropolis, it provided the smaller communities a chance to come ”in town” and do their retail therapy. Usually it was a quiet evening at the grocery, and aside from Mrs. H, was always fun.

Believe it or not, my manager left myself and ”Terry” mostly in charge. Terry was one year older than I. It must have been slow. And really, someone else had to have been there, but I can’t recall that detail. Who? I don’t know. Why? I don’t know, because every Thursday evening, one of us locked the door at closing, and I took the drawer to the office and balanced it, wrote out the deposit with the cash and checks, and then walked the drop down the half-block to our bank’s night deposit slot. By the time I returned, Terry had swept up the main area and tidied up whatever he had to do. And then I walked home, an entire two blocks.

Leaving a 17 and 18-year old in charge was definitely an indicator of another era. It also gave me a great deal of confidence.

I suppose that’s another note of thanks I owe to my manager.

There was a woman who shopped every week on Thursday evening, our open “retail night” in our village. Her weekly grocery excursion from a neighboring town had me shaking in my boots.

Another duty of a checker was to memorize the ad. The sale prices were published on Thursday, so I had about an hour between school and work to memorize the new sale prices before reporting for duty. Without fail, Mrs. H arrived after the supper hour.

This shopper was not a friendly sort and commanded a rather domineering presence. ”Those are 37 cents, not 38,” would be a typical comment. “Check the ad.” Well, if I made a mistake, I had to call the manager to come and correct it. It took me many months to realize this was her little game and she enjoyed humiliating me. My manager laughed and told me not to worry about her, she corrected him, too. However, I did eventually come to play my own game; get every price right and NOT have to rely on a managerial correction!

I guess I owe Mrs. H some gratitude. Learning to deal with curmudgeons early and striving for excellence were probably not what she was aiming to teach, but she did! Tomorrow – Thursday evening protocol.

When summer arrived, my hours as a grocery clerk increased, giving me the opportunity to substitute for senior employees who took vacation. The meat department scared me.

“Harley” was in charge. He was fun, always kind, and encouraged me to approach the slicer with respect. I only had one week to help in that department, but I avoided that implement at all costs. (Remember, I had already learned how to saw my fingers quite nicely under my dad’s watch. Well, you may not remember, but I did!)

I think it was fortuitous I helped Harley take a vacation. He returned the favor my senior year of high school.

Little did I know he was the man on duty at the country club after midnight. When a group of my friends and I hopped the fence to swim in the private pool, Harley was just as surprised to see me as I him. He let us all go without incident or report.

Thanks to the meat department I have no arrest record and have successfully retained my digits. Good times.

Aside from driving a school bus for detassling crews, my primo job was that of grocery store checker. My neighbor and best friend, ”Pann,” worked at a competing store. That in itself was amazing, as our town supported two grocery stores! I guess we were the county seat, so we had to have something special.

This little thought came to mind with the photo. I had to enter every price manually, make change and count back the return, and ensure I wasn’t accepting a check from one of the ”bad check offenders” posted by the register. The kicker – we had courtesy checks for people who didn’t bring their checkbook with them! ”Counter checks” from banks in the area were available, and we required no identification to write one. I guess everyone knew everyone, and if you wrote a bad one, you were posted for all to see.

Truly a different time and some crazy memories! Tomorrow – the meat slicer.

At least ”Wordle” isn’t a rabbit hole…you only get one game. Well, you could get another if you paid for it I assume, or if you waited long enough for the reload, but mostly, you play one simple word game. Then, you may get on with your day. Unless you have a NYTimes puzzle awaiting, too.

Well, I did not miss the news at all while treasure hunting. This comes to mind as I spent last evening binge-watching five episodes of ”The Woman in the House Across the Street from the Girl in the Window.”

Total spoof! I’m not a binger, but 30-minute installments of sarcasm and wit were irresistible. Ooh – and the jibes at all varieties of poor mystery writing and audience gullibility – I like to think I didn’t miss too much. (I’m sure I missed too much.) Anyway, I finished the whole darn season. Unfortunately, I turned the news on after that and found it was too close to the humorous exaggeration I had just viewed

I’m returning to vacation mode.

It’s always good for the soul to head out on a ”Jewelry Junket”. It’s hard to imagine there are even more gems and minerals out there in the earth when you’ve been to the Tucson Gem and Mineral show. It’s phenomenal. While I did support the economy in my teensy way, I mostly admired this vast display.

The photos I took aren’t even of the most spectacular items we saw, just little snippets. Jewelry is excluded in my “portfolio,” mostly because I couldn’t possibly capture the amount of gems and the scope of sellers in the multitude of venues.

I return home without the giant quartz bathtub, the monstrous minerals, and the stunning fountains for the garden. My finds were smaller in nature and will be adorning my neck.

The source chooses to remain anonymous, but this one is apt for our beautiful snowfall, the snowfall which my husband managed to escape, leaving me to plow the driveway and shovel yet again, and have the plow harness break on me yet again.

Anyway, we have moisture!

This one comes from my husband, who probably gets tired of me correcting the grammar of local newscasters who often have “irritable vowels.” It also reminds me that I need to ask my personal IT guy for help with my computer.

Which also reminds me – if you didn’t get an email response from me regarding anything you to which you thought I should be responding in the past month – I did respond. It’s just that the missive did not go through. Thus, computer assistance is required.

Thank you for this reminder, spouse ‘o mine.