The atmosphere of the convenience store was that of a slow slog of a day when the older customer barked, “What are you blind?” “What’s the matter?” the man working the register asked. “Read the little note taped to the credit card!” “S-E-E-D. Seed? Are you a farmer? Planting some new crops this season?” The old man’s wrinkled faced turned red, “No! It clearly says SEE ID! It ensures that if anyone takes my credit card can’t they spend my money! You should go to jail for not reading it!” “I’m sure anyone who takes your credit card would just scratch out the letters or just peel the tiny scotch taped note off.” The old man’s face grimaced, “You belong in jail sir! You belong in jail!” Tom in his younger days may have been unable to hide a condescending smile at this, but the twelve years at the store taught him to straighten his superior grin into a flat line mouth. He nodded and shrugged as if this old, senile, enraged customer without a trace of logic in his argument was instead making a good point. There was little good to come from combating customers. Having a job is what’s important in a life where you’re an average looking guy and no one cares about you. The old man snatched his card back and stormed off with his box of Fruit Loops. “Tom…Tom baker?” Came a far off voice. Tom turned his dead gray eyes towards a young woman emerging from the bouquet aisle and approaching the register. She waved her hand and her lively brown eyes smiled with her pearly teeth. She had on a nice blue dress shirt that matched her business pantsuit. “Remember me?” She said with arms stretched out. The film that had been over Tom’s expression began to crack, in one blink she saw the wetness of his eyes return and the warmth in his countenance. “Darlene Morehouse! I can’t believe it, it’s great to see you again!” She was excited he remembered, and to see the genuine smile on his face once again, “It’s been a long time, Tom I can’t believe you’re here.” Tom blinked with his smile and tightened his eyes in what either hinting curiousity or it was him wincing. “You just had such big dreams, and you were always so smart is all. Everyone who talked to you felt you were. And yet you’re working here?” “Ah well,” Tom raised his eyebrows nodding, “Well life can certainly go in strange ways. There’s no predicting it at times. Part of growing up is learning the world not only won’t serve you but most of the time it’s disappointed in you, your choices, your efforts, and fruitless struggling. And if you find yourself disappointed back at it, after a while, it gets to the point where the pity party gets boring. So do what you can. Work on hobbies. Learn stuff online. Keep at it.” Tom had hoped his babble wasn’t as depressing as he’d hoped. “What do you do?” “I launch start up companies. Get them off the ground and running. Then once they’re on their way up I sell them to larger competing companies for huge profits. Like I just made this one surrounding a certain app to help wealthier elderly people trade stalk in a way they understand it from their phone. Then rival apps want to put a kibosh on you right away. All they know to do is just throw dollars at you until you go away. Big money in it.” “Man I bet. That sounds real exciting.” “It is, once you know how to get a business up and going a certain way, and find a winning pattern you just rinse and repeat, there’s really nothing to it. Now, though I’m only 27, it’s easier for me to tell people what countries I haven’t been to for vacation…Tom…Is this really your only job? You don’t like have a real one at home, right?” Tom stared at her blankly. He could probably get away with getting temperamental with her, but they were friendly in High School and she probably didn’t mean to come off as condescendingly naive as she did. “As of now it is,” is all he said. “You were a few grades above me. Are you 30 yet?” “I’m 30,” he confirmed. “30,” she gasped. “Scary.” “Pfft, for you maybe,” Tom spoke with a playful sneer, “You’re a woman. You start melting to the floor in your 30s and your husband landing power goes to shit. I got about 20-30 more years to look rustic and perfect. You age like open tuna, I’m like beef jerky. Good, tough, and attractive throughout life.” “Bullshit!” Darlene declared in mock indignation. “You and your sagging old man ass give us ladies night terrors. But you’re missing point, Tom do you have any hobbies?” “Gah, I play cards, I read. Volunteer sometimes.” Tom stared at Darlene as she shook her head. “You must hate it here. The way that old man just yelled at you. ‘You belong in jail!’ That is a hell of a thing to say.” “Customers are crazy sometimes. That’s what all the young people who start working in this kind of job need to know right off, just how many people are just crazy useless people you need to just disregard. That sounds mean, but it’s true, and it’s one of the most helpful things in life to keep in mind. A good chunk of people you meet every single day are just nutty broken loons and we’re nearly completely justified in dismissing them and rolling their insults off our shoulders like dusting off our jackets.” “Well, I’m going to say something and don’t dust this off. You need to eat it, digest it, and wear it, Tom. I think of all the people I spoke to in High School, you were the person that really stood out.” Darlene looked away she said this and gazed at the other workers in the store with the name tags on their uniforms and long sleeves stretched over their tattoos and slit wrist scars. She pursed her lips, “I don’t know Tom. I just don’t like that this is where you end up. There is better, there’s a lot better.” She turned her judgmental gaze back to him, to better take him in. Even now, his posture didn’t seem submissive and defeated like the others, he just seemed to exist. “How would you like to help me start up a company? Just see how it works. Try it once. Then you can come back to work here if it doesn’t work out?” Tom didn’t know what to say. It was a lot to take in, especially in the middle of a shift as slow as it was. “…I…I don’t think that’s how my job works. Darlene, I’m sure you can take a week vacation, two week vacations, three. Hell some of those bigger jobs allow a few months off. Paid. Mine is a fight to get someone to cover a single day shift, without pay. That’s my reality. It is most people’s reality. I’m still paying off student loans for majors that didn’t work out. Still paying for the dreams of yesterday.” “Tom…I’m offering you a door to do what I do. It’s a great life. The paychecks you get here are what? $15 or $20 an hour?” She didn’t know it was $9, and that it was better than the $7.25 minimum wage of some of Tom’s drinking buddies. “Whatever your paychecks are, I assure you they are dog shit compared to what I’m offering. I’m saying you should quit this job, and see if you can do what I do. Try it. Then you can come back to… this,” she waved her hand at the ceiling, “…if you want.”