Friday, November 19, 2010
What we do for money
Bob and I worked all-night stocking and cleaning. He was an Arab-American, he actually did say, “Thank you come again,” to the amusement of all that listened. It was about midnight, I was in the cooler and I saw some flashing lights through the cooler‘s glass door. I slipped out and the cops were there taking a report. We had been robbed. He answered the questions turned over the tape and went back to work asking me to do the same.
This was the first Friday night that I had worked for this store. A few minutes later, I was in the backroom when the cops were back and to take yet another report. Bob held his brow this time. He had been hit in the head. I was rather pissed off by this point. I told him he should get his head examined for working here. (No pun intended.)
"It’s okay I'm used to it," he answered.
"How could you be used to this &$@?!" I asked.
He didn’t say anything he just lifted the shift report and pointed. There on the report was five lines dedicated to robbery. Three of the lines had been added in with the use of White Out and a pencil. That was my last night working in downtown Seattle.
I had my limitation on what I would do for money and dieing while making minimum wage wasn’t one of them.