The cashiers at a local grocery store know my children by name. They give them each a sucker. They remark on my youngest son's language development. They're not my staple store, but they're the only place in town with inexpensive brand of bread flour. $2.69 for bread flour! I KNOW!
And their pre-cooked rotisserie chicken...**mwa**
The store was one of the most profitable and fastest growing businesses in West Michigan just a few years ago.
But today...
today a very tired looking woman eating pasta in the break room pointed my son to the bathroom. She smiled wearily "It's right over there, kiddo."
There's a lot of talk of the unemployed as unemployment soars deep into double digits. Less visible are the ones feeling the python's squeeze who feel they should be thankful as they're asked to do more and more for less and less.
My son's voice echoed audibly in the bathroom as the woman and I shared the breakroom together..."EW! It's stinky in here................ I'm going to not breath through my nose. HEY DADDY?? Daddyy!! If I don't breath through my nose I won't smell anything. I won't sssssmell the ssssstink...."
Breakroom Woman tried to politely ignore it as long as she could until she started cracking up.
"Oh my god. I needed that."
"Long day?"
She squinted over at the clock.
"Uhhh...ten hours. Four more hours..."
"Dear god. Those aren't fun. Double shift?"
"Hmmhmmmm..." she rolled her eyes "...they just keep coming." She cracked open a bottle of Mountain Dew.
We both nodded for a bit as my son's voice echoed from the bathroom "Hey! Hey daddy? I'm......pooping now! I'm................gonna be in.............*grunt*....here some more....so I better close my nose up real real real real r......**grunt** real much! Right?"
"Double shifts? What's up with that? Staffing shortages or what?"
"Mmmhmmm...we're just not hiring new people on to replace anybody. I think some stores are even cutting people."
"Salary?"
"Yup."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. I used to work about fourty hours a week, but for months now I'm working sixty. Sometimes more..." she drank at her Mountain Dew as my son chattered away and grunted behind the door next to her. She looked tired. "...but you know, I just keep telling myself at least I have a job. At least I have work."
"Yeah. Still. Health insurance?"
"Not like we used to. It's just this economy. I just don't see how any of us are going to get out of this."
The sound of the toilet flushed behind the door and my son emerged humming cheerfully. The Breakroom Woman and I wished each other luck. A man stocked shelves of cans with red eyes. The woman at the checkout spent time chatting with me and my children even as a couple others stood behind me in line. They didn't seem to have any place to go in a hurry and joined in the chit chat.