Yesterday morning, I was in Starbucks (yeah, yeah, patsy for the man, blahblahblah) paying for my grande white mocha and lemon poppyseed muffin and wondering whether you would really fail a drug test from eating a poppyseed muffin, when I saw the sign that said that Starbucks would be open today, Thanksgiving day, from 7 am to 2 pm. I was incredulous. I was feeling personable, so I said to the cashier, "You're open tomorrow?" I rarely invite conversation with strangers, but indeed, I was feeling so personable that I had almost asked the girl behind the counter whether she thought eating poppyseed muffins would cause you to fail a drug test.
"Yeah," she replied, looking none too thrilled. There are many ways in which I could have responded to the idea that Starbucks was open on Thanksgiving, all of which I am sure the cashier had already heard. I could have been excited, as if a foamy cappuccino was the only thing the Pilgrims had missed. Or I could have said that it was a really good business opportunity and a great service that Starbucks was providing to those who would be out this morning. But no. My reaction?
"Man, that sucks."
"Yeah."
"I had to work Thanksgiving day once. Swore that I would never do it again." This is true. I worked Thanksgiving once at Vintner's, after having left my parents' house at about 2 to come work. I made a whole lot of money, but was miserable serving my favorite holiday to a bunch of stupid tourists who don't know when to stay home. The next year, I put my foot down and said that I would not work Thanksgiving, and as I had been working at the restaurant longer than anyone else at that point, I didn't have to work until 10:30 Friday morning. Working on Black Friday sucks, too, but not nearly as bad. But anyway, I sympathized with the poor service industry slave now handing me my twenty-eight cents in change.
The girl looked really concerned at my vehemence. "Why? Is it that bad?"
Crap, now I'd gone and scared her, when she was already dreading it. "Oh, well, I just had to leave my family's dinner early to go to work all night, and it, uh, just really sucked." Man, I am lame.
"Oh. Well. I'll be here tomorrow."
"Good luck with that."
She gave me a forced smile in return, as if she just wanted me to get out of her store and have bad things start happening to me. She probably wanted me to go out and fail a drug test. It's good that I didn't mention that through the glory of a college degree, I now had Thanksgiving and Black Friday off, and I was getting paid for both of them. She hated me enough already without that. This is why I don't talk to strangers.
Happy Thanksgiving.
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