Sharing from my shame corner

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?”

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provided via google, Mr Benjamin Withrow, aka the only acceptable Mr Bennet

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.

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Oh, Kelly, you have NO idea! *provided via google*

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?).

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Did I really? *provided via google*

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…


29 thoughts on “Sharing from my shame corner

  1. When I was little, my dad had me in a backpack in the grocery store. We were in the check-out line when I opted to vomit my pancake breakfast all over his neck. But he was IN THE CHECKOUT LINE! What do you do? Stay in line and buy your groceries or leave without the stuff you need? He opted to stay, but years later he was still holding that over my head, lol.

    Liked by 3 people

    • oooo ick!! But honestly, I probably would have stayed too but only if I was already in line. Otherwise, staff bathroom for a quick clean up! I hate grocery shopping personally so having to go back and start all over again would suck.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh goodness you poor thing! But no one can be mad at you if you were sick!

    I remember being sick at a bbq one village away when I was about 8. I didn’t know the hosts very well (I’d gone with my friend to their house to play croquet, and they were sweet and invited us to join them…) anyway I must have caught a stomach bug so I had to run to their loo. BUT while everything was going to s*** poo-wise, I also had to throw up. I couldn’t reach the sink, and I couldn’t be sick in the loo because I was sitting on it for all the liquid poo. So I ended up with sick all down myself in the only loo in their house at a party. I was sooo embarrassed.

    I am not even sure what happened next. I must have blocked that day from my mind! I guess my dad must have come to collect me!?

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Hmmm… which is worse… probably still Christine’s, but only because nobody actually thought you were possessed. Not like your head spun full ’round before you hurled or anything, right? Plus, you were an adult (ish) and adults know that people throw up etc. and it’s a thing that happens to everyone and at least you tried to get away first.

    Also important: you have impeccable taste in Prides and Prejudices. (also appropriate, because that’s one of my go-to movies when I’m ill… it just soothes me.)

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I totally understand why we can’t eat some type of food due to a memory. When I was in middle school, we were on the bus going home, and one of the boys wasn’t feeling well.

    He had his head down and was turning an interesting shade of yellow-green. As the bus maneuvered through the bumpy roads on our 30-minute ride home, Donnie Bazelle ( I will never forget his name), suddenly puked all over the floor of the bus, causing chaos and mayhem will all of us sitting around him.

    Apparently, Donnie, had a bologna sandwich for lunch that day and there were chunks all over the floor, his shoes and pants. I have never been a fan of bologna, but my husband loves it. And now all these years later, anytime my hubby makes a bologna sandwich, I immediately think of Donnie and that day on the bus.

    Funny side note: Donnie had a false front tooth and that day he got sick, his tooth fall out too. Luckily, it didn’t end up on the floor with his lunch; it conveniently landed in his shirt pocket, and his mom found it later that night when she was doing his laundry.

    I enjoyed your post! Thank you for sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I also read Christine’s post couple days ago. Followed by this one, and then a memory I thought I had looooong ago buried deep into the recesses of my brain have popped up. Stay tuned for that post. All to say, I think we all have a horrifying upchucking story in our pasts. Part of being human! lol!

    Liked by 1 person

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