More Songs About Buildings And Food
I've just returned from a trip to one of my favourite buildings, the Loblaws Queen's Quay Market, with enough material for a dozen stories. This is what I saw:
In the produce section: A woman wearing what was either a slip dress circa 1996, or a nightgown. Neither of which would attract undue notice, were this a sweltering day in July, rather than a brisk Toronto April.
In the canned fish aisle: A man who, with one hand was turning the cans so he could bettter examine the labels, with the other was holding his cell phone, into which he was asking, "What's the difference between flaked tuna and chunked tuna?"
In the peanut butter aisle: A couple of hot guys who turned out to be a hot guy couple. One, who was crouching to reach the Kraft peanut butter (they keep it on the very bottom shelf because they know you'll work that hard to get it), was asking the other, "Which kind of peanut butter is it that we like, again?"
In the snack food aisle: A real hot guy. You know what I mean. Both age- and height-appropriate. For me, I mean. Note to self: dress better next time you go grocery shopping.
At the checkout: A woman with her hair in rollers. Note to woman with her hair in rollers: dress next time you go grocery shopping.
At the checkout: A cashier who looks exactly like Debi Mazar.
At the checkout: An older woman, my cashier, showing solicitude above and beyond the call of duty to the especially demanding customer ahead of me, who wasn't being outright rude, but who was babbling incessantly and in turns and in Chinese to her mother, then to her son, and who turned her attention to the cashier only to ask, breviloquently, to please not put that item in the same bag with this item, and give me a separate bag for the bean sprouts. She wasn't being rude, quite. Just terse. Just more demanding than perhaps most of us would consider necessary on a busy Saturday afternoon at a very large grocery store in a very large city.
As the Chinese woman left the cashier called to the next cashier, the one behind me, to please come and relieve her; she needed a break. She apologized to me for the short wait, and I made a point of smiling, and being extra nice to her. I'm trying to keep my New Year's resolution. And I thought about Jack.
Jack travels a lot for work, and he always travels with chocolate. He's diabetic, as I told you before. It's not for himself. When he's checking in, or boarding, he's frequently forced to observe the travellers ahead of him taking out their frustrations on the airline staff. Sometimes, by the time they get to him, they can barely contain their exasperation, and though they're attempting to be polite to him, he knows what they're really thinking is, "And what the fuck do you want?"
And so, instead of wanting anything, he asks, "Would you like some chocolate?"
Just to watch their faces light up.
Once, he was settling into his first class seat while the flight attendant was attempting to calm a particularly beligerent passenger in front of him. She did the best she could, then she turned to Jack, hoping for relief, and he had it.
"Would you like some chocolate?" he offered.
"Oh! You're that guy!" she exclaimed. "You're the chocolate guy! I'd heard about you, but I thought it was just an airline legend."
He sure can be that guy.
* * *
Her fridge full, Sass turns her attention to figuring out whether, and how, to use Picasa and/or Flickr, and, while doing so, a thought occurs to her...Later, Jack calls Sass. And then, she writes him a letter..
In the produce section: A woman wearing what was either a slip dress circa 1996, or a nightgown. Neither of which would attract undue notice, were this a sweltering day in July, rather than a brisk Toronto April.
In the canned fish aisle: A man who, with one hand was turning the cans so he could bettter examine the labels, with the other was holding his cell phone, into which he was asking, "What's the difference between flaked tuna and chunked tuna?"
In the peanut butter aisle: A couple of hot guys who turned out to be a hot guy couple. One, who was crouching to reach the Kraft peanut butter (they keep it on the very bottom shelf because they know you'll work that hard to get it), was asking the other, "Which kind of peanut butter is it that we like, again?"
In the snack food aisle: A real hot guy. You know what I mean. Both age- and height-appropriate. For me, I mean. Note to self: dress better next time you go grocery shopping.
At the checkout: A woman with her hair in rollers. Note to woman with her hair in rollers: dress next time you go grocery shopping.
At the checkout: A cashier who looks exactly like Debi Mazar.
At the checkout: An older woman, my cashier, showing solicitude above and beyond the call of duty to the especially demanding customer ahead of me, who wasn't being outright rude, but who was babbling incessantly and in turns and in Chinese to her mother, then to her son, and who turned her attention to the cashier only to ask, breviloquently, to please not put that item in the same bag with this item, and give me a separate bag for the bean sprouts. She wasn't being rude, quite. Just terse. Just more demanding than perhaps most of us would consider necessary on a busy Saturday afternoon at a very large grocery store in a very large city.
As the Chinese woman left the cashier called to the next cashier, the one behind me, to please come and relieve her; she needed a break. She apologized to me for the short wait, and I made a point of smiling, and being extra nice to her. I'm trying to keep my New Year's resolution. And I thought about Jack.
Jack travels a lot for work, and he always travels with chocolate. He's diabetic, as I told you before. It's not for himself. When he's checking in, or boarding, he's frequently forced to observe the travellers ahead of him taking out their frustrations on the airline staff. Sometimes, by the time they get to him, they can barely contain their exasperation, and though they're attempting to be polite to him, he knows what they're really thinking is, "And what the fuck do you want?"
And so, instead of wanting anything, he asks, "Would you like some chocolate?"
Just to watch their faces light up.
Once, he was settling into his first class seat while the flight attendant was attempting to calm a particularly beligerent passenger in front of him. She did the best she could, then she turned to Jack, hoping for relief, and he had it.
"Would you like some chocolate?" he offered.
"Oh! You're that guy!" she exclaimed. "You're the chocolate guy! I'd heard about you, but I thought it was just an airline legend."
He sure can be that guy.
Her fridge full, Sass turns her attention to figuring out whether, and how, to use Picasa and/or Flickr, and, while doing so, a thought occurs to her...Later, Jack calls Sass. And then, she writes him a letter..
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