11:50 PM
PART 2 of 2 - Writing contest: The proposal calls for Debi and Jewish
Producer to each write a 300 word (minimum) essay. Each essay will be
displayed without the author's name attached to the post. You the
reader will have to determine the author of each penned blog-post. See
below, read the first post and guess who wrote it in the comment
section.. Is the author of the following Debi or JP????
Today I was pulled out of my daydream by the reality of a woman asking the cashier at Macy's in Northpark Mall if they sold a certain dress in a size different than the one she was holding. How dare she distract this overworked, minimum wage, neanderthal to ask the stupid question. "No Mam, we keep several things hidden from people like you", is what I said to myself.
The cashier said without even looking at the dress "Nope". I could sense that the cashier was actually happy that this poor woman would now have to scour the Earth for her precious size 22. It simply amazes me the way people are so rude. They seem so "deserving." The cashier , who was young and a little asexual, offered (without looking up, naturally), "I think there's another place somewhere around here, but I think they moved. I'd Google it if I were you." The poor, overweight woman was nearly sweating. We could all then see that she didn't speak English very well and didn't understand any of what cashier had said. But she could smell the tension and didn't dare ask for it to be repeated. She turned away, bowed her head and moved on with her life, dress-less and broken. My heart softened and I wanted to shout after her, "I will help you Google it!" but I couldn't speak. There was no more water in my decaying body and my mouth would not open.
Forty-five minutes later, I was barely carrying a pulse when the unthinkable happened. The cashier spoke to me and said "Did you find everything okay?" It was time. I was the chosen. I peeled myself off the end cap I'd been laying on and rolled the squeaky stroller to the heart of the hell-mouth. I was faced with a dilemma; Now that I was in the driver's seat, should I dish back the unfriendly filth this demon had spewed over all of us, or should I take the high road. I thought about my family whom I'm sure would've immediately laid into this cashier, so I resisted my DNA and chose the high road. I didn't know where this was coming from, it was as if I was possessed or had forgotten the 45 minutes of my life that had just been pillaged from me, but I was actually friendly with cashier . It must've been that I knew I would be getting my life back soon. How the faintest glimmer of hope can lift the soul. I spoke in concise sentences so that those whom came after me would not be burdened by my needs or extra chatter. Because of this, I was pretty sure I got the wrong amount of fabric, but fuck it, there was no going back. The cashier mumbled about their "system" needing to reboot and my knees buckled, and I thought…."I hate fellow shoppers."
Essay #2: I hate Fellow Shoppers.
Today I was pulled out of my daydream by the reality of a woman asking the cashier at Macy's in Northpark Mall if they sold a certain dress in a size different than the one she was holding. How dare she distract this overworked, minimum wage, neanderthal to ask the stupid question. "No Mam, we keep several things hidden from people like you", is what I said to myself. The cashier said without even looking at the dress "Nope". I could sense that the cashier was actually happy that this poor woman would now have to scour the Earth for her precious size 22. It simply amazes me the way people are so rude. They seem so "deserving." The cashier , who was young and a little asexual, offered (without looking up, naturally), "I think there's another place somewhere around here, but I think they moved. I'd Google it if I were you." The poor, overweight woman was nearly sweating. We could all then see that she didn't speak English very well and didn't understand any of what cashier had said. But she could smell the tension and didn't dare ask for it to be repeated. She turned away, bowed her head and moved on with her life, dress-less and broken. My heart softened and I wanted to shout after her, "I will help you Google it!" but I couldn't speak. There was no more water in my decaying body and my mouth would not open.
Forty-five minutes later, I was barely carrying a pulse when the unthinkable happened. The cashier spoke to me and said "Did you find everything okay?" It was time. I was the chosen. I peeled myself off the end cap I'd been laying on and rolled the squeaky stroller to the heart of the hell-mouth. I was faced with a dilemma; Now that I was in the driver's seat, should I dish back the unfriendly filth this demon had spewed over all of us, or should I take the high road. I thought about my family whom I'm sure would've immediately laid into this cashier, so I resisted my DNA and chose the high road. I didn't know where this was coming from, it was as if I was possessed or had forgotten the 45 minutes of my life that had just been pillaged from me, but I was actually friendly with cashier . It must've been that I knew I would be getting my life back soon. How the faintest glimmer of hope can lift the soul. I spoke in concise sentences so that those whom came after me would not be burdened by my needs or extra chatter. Because of this, I was pretty sure I got the wrong amount of fabric, but fuck it, there was no going back. The cashier mumbled about their "system" needing to reboot and my knees buckled, and I thought…."I hate fellow shoppers."
