Old Home Week

December 5, 2023 at 9:46 pm (Cussed Dumbers)

James, the bouncer at Portland’s finest strip club, clapped me on the shoulder and slipped me a $5 as I was leaving work. “Where you been? It’s not the same at 2:30 without you sneaking me to the front of the line.”

I gave him a half-hug as I pocketed the five. James is one of many who push the limits of the OLCC’s time restrictions. (But one’s liver doesn’t care what time it is, and he’s tipped me enough to buy a big-screen TV.) “Thank you sir! I miss the generosity. But I don’t miss graveyard. I love staying up all night. Just not with them…” I nodded toward the crowd of blue-heads just outside the door. “I get outta here about the time their drugs reaally kick in.”

James will be seeing even less of me. Starting next week, I’m going back to my old schedule.

It’s been a while since I’ve been here. I write in my head all the time, but after a while it seemed to be the same old stuff. How many ways can I bitch about working with the public? “Well, if you don’t like your job… maybe you should find a new job…” (Say it in a nasally whine for full effect.) That usually sets me off.

“I like my job just fine. In fact, I love my job. WHAT I DON’T LIKE is some shit-covered crackhead giving me career advice at 4 AM! Now get the fuck outta here before I lock the goddamn store. Again.”

There’s been a lot of improvement in regards to the homeless/fetty/POS bum problem near the store. We get actual cops coming in to say hello. Clean and Safe comes without our calling, and some of the homeless will beat the asses of other homeless because “you don’t fuck with the store.” I get quite a kick out of seeing kids (now grown) I’ve 86ed for theft now chasing off shitbirds on my behalf. Sometimes growing up takes a while.

Staffing has been an issue. Lack of staffing, more like it. After Mrs Brady bailed for the good life at Freddy’s bakery, we’ve been razor-thin in the people dept. TRex, a parolee with 24 mugshots on file, is our newish day person. He’s training a guy who looks like Slash’s skeleton. Southie is back, and works a lot of nights with me. Giggles is around, but we don’t interact much. Our best communications are the unspoken ones.

So where do I fit in? Mister “I’ll work anywhere, any time…?” Cue up the Maxine Nightengale, cuz we’re gonna get right back to where we started from… I will be the Wednesday through Saturday swing shift. My week starts just past halftime, and ends Saturday at midnight. Yes! I can watch all the football, and no more fucking Sunday night.

Why you so down on Sunday night, they ask? Seems great, nobody out, just a few security guards and the folks watching football and gambling at the bars nearby. Oh, did I mention that we’re about the only thing open anymore?

Target got the fuck out in a big way. Rite Aid is bankrupt. (Wonder if it had anything to do with all the armloads of unpaid-for shit people hauled out…?) 7-Eleven closed both its stores before the pandemic was over. Plaid Pantry closes before Safeway does. CVS, after being burned out during the riots, is still open by Pioneer Square, but the one time I went in there, I did not see a sales associate for three minutes, so I just left. I realize good help is hard to find, but non-existent? A lot of people offer to work, but then the drugs kick in and they are useless again.

The shiny penny in all this? I get to go back to a more normal crowd. God bless Portland for its weirdness, but can we get some goddamned “normals” around here to counterbalance the stupidity? Trust me, it will make the weird a lot more palatable…