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.