So, it has been a normal occurrence for me, since moving to a new town, to run into people I use to socialize with at the local Walmart. For one reason or another the good people, those unaffected or beleaguered by social popularity, always keep in contact with me. Not to say that my superficial friends(hell, we all have them) are as distant as distant can be, but in this case, it’s the townies that always extend a gregarious hand to me over my metropolis dwellers.
This afternoon in particular I ran into Rob while deciding whether or not to go with Walmart’s lactose low-fat milk or the popular Lactaid brand( I decided on the former, sue me!).Rob and I got to talking, and before I could finish my “So, are you on brea..” he interrupts me with a sonorous ” I was fired last week.” I scratched my head over this for a brief moment, for you see Rob is one of the most talented, creatively dripping people I’ve come in my life to meet. With all his gifted ability invested in him from up on high, how could Walmart seeking to repudiate his material abilities by firing him?
“I had just went on my break, and took a carton of orange juice from Dairy out the store before I realized I hadn’t paid for it.”
Absented-minded. One of Ware’s greatest sons, verse in music, literature, and history, brought down, if not felled, by teenager absentmindedness.
We both agreed Management’s final adjudication was so over-silly, as Rob’s actions were not recourse enough to warrant being fired over. But, this is Walmart: where all the rules about engendered rules or human affability are left outside those heralded double doors.
I switched gears alittle and asked Rob how his finances were holding up. He informed me, with a grin, that he’ll have maybe a month before his bills,rent, etc. overtake him.
“..by which time you’ll see me outside LOWES looking for any discarded refrigerator boxes to tape up, and call home.”
We laughed at this visual(morbid as that may be)but Rob, all of 20 years old, is a fighter. He is a realist, adaptable and forthright, and though he made a mistake he shouldn’t be made to suffer because of it.
Especially not in the town of Ware.
Before I went back to shopping, Rob wondered if I knew about automobiles, namely valves. I told him I didn’t, but this information seemed to do anything to the small grin on his face. Rob then tells me that the car his parents bought from a drug-dealer a few towns over, for the paltry amount of $600.00, is giving him fits. Recently the valves starting showing their age( an odd occurrence, especially on a 1998 Honda Accord) as he has found himself working on the car every weekend or so. Rob has a creative way of expressing things, and as we closed our conversation, he shared this with me.
“I really need to get my car fix; I mean how am I suppose to get to WORK, to find WORK, if I can’t drive there in my POS* car. I can’t keep doing these minor repairs on a huge project. I feel as if my car has AIDS and I keep feeding her Advil.”