I was recently reminded of some horrifying day in my life and I have decided to share it with you all.
To quote Mr Bennet from Pride and Prejudice, “for what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?”
Well, Giggling Followers, today is your turn. I shall humbly submit myself to you and accept it. For I know, soon enough, I will probably be laughing at some horrible trauma on your own blogs. It’s the circle of blog life, no?
Enough with the dramatics…
On Tuesday, Phil from The Phil Factor, had a guest post by Christine of I’m Sick and So Are You! Christine wrote this horrifying tale of being a little girl going to Sunday School and being so excited!! And then she threw up her orange juice all over a Bible. Yes, folks – a Bible! Now if that doesn’t pique your interest, I’m not sure why we are even friends because that was a story that I just had to read. And I did. And it didn’t disappoint.
Not only did I feel for this little girl being sick in Sunday School, but the tiny detail of the orange juice sparked a little nugget of repressed memory in my own life. You may want to read this when you aren’t eating…
When I was in university, I worked at a grocery store. I’ve written about this many times, and I rose up in the ranks rather quickly. Soon I was assistant cash manager and I loved it. I started in August, and this story takes place my second New Years Eve there.
Now, because of church responsibilities, I never worked Christmas Eve. But the rule in this store was you had to work one of the eves. So I always worked New Year’s Eve. And of course, since the store would be closed the next day, it was always bananas in there. People always thought that the world was ending because the store would be closed for one day.
Being the assistant cash manager, I was there to open the store. Which was fine. I drove my mum’s little sports car in, grabbed some Tim Hortons on the way (orange juice and a carrot muffin for my morning break, and a croissant for the drive). I was in a great mood since I was going to have one of the girls from work staying over that night to celebrate crossing into a new year.
Work was fine, my first break came and I was sitting in the manager’s office drinking my orange juice and eating my yummy carrot muffin.
Went back out on till and then the madness started. It was almost noon and the store was getting busy. We had lines at all the tills stretching into the isles, my cash manager had arrived and was actually working a till herself since we had to get breaks done, and the actual owner of the store was with me at the courtesy desk helping me bag things.
I’m glad he was there because then my stomach started to feel off. My owner, while being one of the dumbest men I have ever worked for, was also a very kind and obliging man. So when I turned to him and said, half speaking over my shoulder, “Can you take over for me here? I think I’m going to be sick,” he said sure and we quickly switched places. He actually ruined my scanning time score that day by being so slow, but that is neither here nor there.
I rushed around the courtesy desk and was trying to make my way through the squish of people unloading their groceries there and the wall of the next till. It didn’t take very long, but it definitely slowed me down a little bit.
Then, the first surge. I felt it trying to push up. I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom at the back corner of the store. I stopped and reached over the newspaper stand, keeping my mouth shut and one hand over my mouth, I started snapping my fingers at the store owner who was trying to find a sticker on some produce to type into the till. He looked at me to ask what the number was (which of course I knew but I wasn’t going to open my mouth) and then he got this look of terror on his face as he realised what was about to go down in his store.
Then it happened.
And to be perfectly honest, probably on some of the customers too. I just hope it was one of the annoying regular ones who probably did their full week’s worth of shopping the day before and then came back to buy another full cart of food just because the store was going to be closed for the holiday.
Thankfully, the cash manager had her wits about her. The owner was now staring at me like I was that girl from The Exorcist (I’ve never seen that movie, did I get the reference right?).
The owner was a father but he was never good with the gross side of things. My cash manager, on the other hand, was pre-med and in one swift motion, she grabbed her garbage can from under the till, slammed it into my arms and stomach (causing another wave of grossness to come out of me btw), and then went back to serving her customer. I don’t even think she stopped typing in codes.
I ran to our parcel pickup area and finished being sick in the garbage can. My work shirt totally covered in vomit. I could hear the store owner over the PA system calling the grocery boys to bring a mop. “—- to the front with a mop!! ***** to the front with a mop!! ANYBODY TO THE FRONT WITH A MOP!!! NOW!!!!”
I eventually found out who had to clean it up, the low man on the totem pole, a high school kid who we all called Baby Obama (he’s going places). He said he just thought someone had spilt orange juice, so I guess that’s good?
I was sent home from work, my uniform shirt in a bag, and burst into tears as I asked my mum to wash it for me. She looked confused since I wasn’t supposed to be home for another few hours but then got the idea. I cancelled my sleepover plans via text (although I really didn’t have to, my friend had arrived at work and had already heard what had happened and wasn’t going to come over if I was sick) and then went straight to bed.
I’m not sure which is worse, throwing up on a Bible, or customers at your job – but at least Christine had the option of never going back. I took my new scheduled shift off but then I had to go back to work and face the shame of my co-workers. Thankfully I was close friends with “the cool guys” and wasn’t mocked too badly.
I still can’t eat a carrot muffin…