Incident at the Walgreens

I’m standing in line getting my morning coffee, and I see her. It was the same woman I saw a few minutes ago at Walgreens. A young woman stood behind the counter looking bored, chewing her gum and clicking her manicured nails on her left hand. Her right hand scanned one item at a time, as slow as she could manage, while taking the time between each item to fiddle with the braids in her long hair. Did she take her time to ring up this senior? Yes, she was. But then, much to my surprise, the older woman let out a string of words that I can’t even write, much less say in polite company, targeting this young woman. I thought the woman behind the counter was going to rip this woman’s head off. Instead she stopped what she was doing, letting this woman continue to go off on her. I couldn’t figure it out. I only needed a small bag of cat food, which was on sale. But even I was getting fed up with this woman. A manager approached the cashier, addressing the woman who was now cursing out the young woman. He didn’t say a word, put his keys into the register, shut it down, and walked away, following the young woman.

“Excuse me? Where do you think you’re going? I need these things!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the manager turned back to address her. “It seems there’s something wrong with that register. I’m positive the issue will be resolved if you come back tomorrow. Thank you for shopping at Walgreens. Have a nice day.” Just like that, he and the cashier walked to the back of the store. There wasn’t a self-check. No other cashier was working. So the store didn’t ring up any more items. And this woman just stood there!

After five minutes of waiting, I watched her pull out her phone, take pictures of each item she was trying to purchase, and walk out the door with them, putting them into her car. The door alarm sounded when she crossed it, alerting the manager to the theft. The manager and the cashier returned, checking outside to see if the coast was clear, and started ringing up people again, starting with me.

Walking to the car after getting cat food, I saw the police pull up to the front of the building, lights on but no siren. Figuring this might get more interesting, I stuck around for a bit. The woman working at the cash register came out with the manager, visibly upset and yelling in the officer’s face, the manager holding her back. Her hands swung wildly in the direction of the officer. “You knows if’n it t’was me, you’d be trackin’ me all over Cape!” After the manager got her calmed down, the manager invited the officer inside. I guess he wanted to see the surveillance footage. I left the store, knowing I needed to get more things, but I wasn’t about to spend another minute here. This, all by itself, took more than thirty minutes – to buy cat food? I probably could have gone elsewhere, but this was way more fun!

The local coffee shop, three miles from Walgreens, is one of my all-time favorites because of the roast of their beans. I go on special occasions because it’s not something I spend my hard-earned money on, except as a treat. After spending thirty minutes at Walgreens, I figured I deserved to treat myself.

One of my best friends, Joanna, is a barista. And she’s slammed, making drinks as fast as they are ordered. She looks up at me long enough to smile and wink, going back, kicking out espresso as fast as humanly possible. She brushes her bangs out of her face, cleans her workstation, and yells out names poorly written on each cup. The cashier was a guy I remembered from high school, Javier, who wasn’t technically Mexican, Spanish, Cuban, or even a bit Latin American. Javier’s two Dads were from Portland, Oregon, now living in southern Illinois. Javier wasn’t sure if he was gay, but everyone else, including Joanna, knew he was. “It was only a matter of time,” Joanna confided, “but he did come out to everyone at the café.” Javier’s general manager didn’t mind, but Miles, Javier’s boyfriend, did.

Javier didn’t have the best penmanship and didn’t like getting stuff on his hands, including black Sharpie. So he wrote the names on the cups, barely holding the thick pen. This made for elongated letters, and sharp angles that weren’t needed, not for lettering. He took my order, wrote my name wrong like he did when I came in, and I waited for Joanna to make my drink.

That’s when I saw her walk in – the same elder lady I saw at Walgreens an hour ago. I thought she would give Javier a hard time, but to my surprise, he gave her a high-five, smiled, and said, “Now, what can I get for you, sweetie?”

“Oh, the usual. Black coffee and a double shot, please.” She pulled out a twenty, looked at Javier, and told him, “You can keep the change.” Her tone was that of a complete stranger. I didn’t know who this woman was, but it wasn’t the same lady at Walgreens. Her outfit was the same. Same hairstyle. Same height. But the language was so much different, I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming about the Walgreens incident, or if I was dreaming about this one. Either way, it was disconcerting. Then I heard something that shocked me. “I haven’t seen in church for a while, Havee.” Church? This woman goes to church? “I’d be happy to tell Pastor Theo you’ll be in this weekend.”

“Oh, Ms. Grayson. That’s nice of you, really it is, but I’m not going to Grace Methodist anymore.”

“Oh?” she asked. “And why is that, Havee?”

“Me and my boyfriend aren’t welcome. So, we decided to go somewhere else.”

“Not welcomed? That’s utter ridiculousness! I’ll talk to Pastor Theo. He and I are like this,” she said, crossing her fingers. “It helps that I take care of the books.”

“Well, I’ll talk to Kyle and see. Thanks for stopping in today.” He smiled at her. Ms. Grayson smiled back. And so did I, knowing my next call would be to the police with my information. I didn’t get involved with things like this, but today? I figured if God was smiling, so would the black woman who was racially slurred at the Walgreens.