Having served my time in the trenches, I still feel a strong connection with retail workers. And by “the trenches,” I mean aisle 8 – the chaos aisle.
Aisle 8 was the aisle that started with bread and canned goods, but ended with feminine hygiene and incontinence products. Aisle 8 was where a charming, young man misplaced a large bag of heroin. Aisle 8 was also where an elderly gentleman once dropped his pants and took a giant shit in the middle of the aisle, before the stunt was repeated on two more occasions by two different, unrelated customers.
And on more than one occasion did a sex worker come in to buy sweats or scrubs, having misplaced her clothing the night before, but only once did she come in completely naked to buy mascara.