Story 598: Retail Time Vs. Real-World Time

            (In a department store full of vacationing children, suffering parents/guardians, and irritated regulars, Shopper enters pushing a cart and whistling happily while zigzagging through the crowds)

Shopper: Ahhhhh…. Nothing beats coming into an air-conditioned store on a hot summer’s day.  Except maybe going to the beach.  Or a pool.  Or staying at home.  Or – ooh, slushies!  (Diverts to the front-and-center slushy counter and orders the biggest size to nurse throughout the store) Ahhhhh…. Nothing beats a freezing, sugary drink in an air-conditioned store on a hot summer’s – (Nearly chokes on the slushy when entering an open space filled with “BACK TO SCHOOL!” displays) What horror is this?!  It’s only July!

Employee: (Slowly passing by with a cart full of tried-on clothes to reshelve) You’re telling me – we had to put all these up by 4^th of July weekend.

Shopper: (Whispers at Employee’s steadily retreating form) Madness.  (Turns back to one of the displays, stares at the notebooks, pens, pencils, backpacks, and lunchboxes waiting eagerly to be brought to school, then shakes head to snap out of it and mutters while turning the cart around) It’s OK – it can’t hurt you – you haven’t had to go back to school in over 20 years –that’s mildly depressing….

(Shopper forces the cart away from the gravitational pull of school supplies and merrily rolls along, ignoring the clearance swimwear and beach gear, and turns a corner to stare down a long aisle)

Shopper: WHAT THE BLAZES IS THIS?!

(Halloween decorations and costumes fill the entire aisle, both sides)

Motion-Sensor Giant Werewolf: (Looms over Shopper entering the aisle) Beware the full moon, beware the setting sun, beware the bubbling cauldron, beware the grave, ahahahaha!

Shopper: I think you’re a little confused there, creep.  (To the rest of the aisle, some parts of which are moving) I can’t face your torments right now – begone!  (Nothing changes) Oh right, I’m the one who has to leave.  (Maneuvers the cart to the next aisle and starts to go down it)

Motion-Sensor Giant Turkey: (Looms over Shopper entering the aisle) Hi there!  This is Tom Turkey wishing you and yours a Happy Thanks– !

Shopper: Nope!  (Immediately turns around to leave the aisle and runs with the cart as fast as possible through the human obstacle course in the store’s main thoroughfare until reaching the end, then sharply turns and heads down that aisle to reach the back corner of the store, sipping the slushy the entire way)

Shopper: (Noisily slurping the bottom of the cup while turning the corner at the back of the store) Safe at last, safe at –

Winter Wonderland: JINGLE BELLS/ JINGLE BELLS/ JINGLE ALL THE –

Shopper: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!  (Flings away the empty cup, abandons the cart, and somehow avoids collisions while running through the crowds and back out the main entrance into the hot summer’s day) No one will take summer away from me – NO ONE!!! 

Employee: (Watching while still slowly pushing the cart of clothes; softly) Wish I could join you….

Story 555: Flashback Back to School

             (On a park trail, Friend 1 and Friend 2 navigate carefully over the uneven terrain)

Friend 2: (Gingerly stepping down a highlands hill) I can’t believe I let you talk me into taking the difficult trail this time.

Friend 1: (Holding onto a tree trunk for the descent) C’mon, you can’t stay on the easy-to-moderate trails all your life, you’ve gotta branch out a little – ow!  (Stubs foot on an exposed tree root and nearly falls off the mini-mountain)

Tree 1: <Heh-heh: got another one>

Tree 2: <Sweet> (The two trees’ branches slap each other in triumph)

Friend 2: (Helping Friend 1 regain footing) Still, this is the most exercise I get in a week, so I suppose I should be grateful.

Friend 1: You’re welcome.  (The ground levels out slightly and they continue onward with minimal interruption)

Friend 2: And it’s great coming here after Labor Day, with no more summer state park fees, summer crowds, or summer weather.

Friend 1: But it’s still summer.

Friend 2: Yeah, technically, but you know as soon as Labor Day hits, fun time’s over.

Friend 1: (Takes a swig from a water bottle) Ugh, don’t remind me: I hate this time of year.

Friend 2: Well, sure, I know you love beaches and boardwalks and any excuse to have funnel cake, but you gotta admit that the cooling weather, changing leaves, and absence of shore traffic are definitely perks.

Friend 1: Oh, no doubt; I won’t argue with any of that.

Friend 2: Then what is it?

Friend 1: (Stops walking, stares at an osprey landing on a nesting pole in the distance, and sighs; through gritted teeth) Back.  To.  School.

Friend 2: (Also having stopped walking) You… haven’t gone back to school in over 20 years.

Friend 1: I know.  But the 17 I did during my formative era have been seared into my brain and will never leave, at least until the inevitable dementia’s in full force.  No, scratch that: with my luck, those’ll be the only memories I’ll have at that point.

Friend 2: (As they both start walking again) All right, going back to school after summer break was sad and annoying, but it wasn’t that bad.  We got to see all our friends again.

Friend 1: I saw them in just the right amounts during break, I-thank-you.

Friend 2: Some of the work was interesting.

Friend 1: To you, maybe: I was a terrible student and didn’t need a yearly reminder.

Friend 2: (Winces slightly) …You liked Band!  And Drama Club, don’t forget that!

Friend 1: (Chuckles) True, true.  I miss those geeks; made me feel superior to the nerds in Chess Club.

Friend 2: What about the athletes?

Friend 1: Don’t talk to me about those dorks!

Friend 2: (Defensively) Hey, I was on the basketball team for three years in high school!

Friend 1: Oh right.  Well, you were OK.

Friend 2: (Shakes head in exasperation) Whatever – point is, for us, school was all right and not the faux-traumatic experience you’re acting like it was.

Friend 1: I’m not saying it was; I’m just saying I hate Back to School.  Every year, all the anxiety and pressure come flooding back in like they never left.

Friend 2: Oh, well, then just… don’t think about it, I guess.

Friend 1: I have yet to hear an instance where that suggestion has ever worked for anything.

(That night, Friend 1 lies in bed, staring at a digital clock on the lamp table)

Friend 1: Mm-hm: at this time 20+ years ago, I was dreading the first day of high school… first day of middle school… (Starts drifting to sleep) elementary school… kindergarten… pre… schooooooolllll….

THE DREAM

(In a never-ending hallway filled with students, Friend 1 stands in the exact center, dressed like a 1990s teenager but still with a 2020s face, carrying a backpack and holding several textbooks with paper bag covers in one arm and an illegible class schedule in the other hand)

Friend 1: (Looking around frantically through the streams of passing students, gigantic lockers, and infinite closed doors as many bells constantly ring) Where’s my classroom?!  WHERE’S MY CLASSROOM????!!!!

(Suddenly seated in the very front row of a classroom, Friend 1 strains to read what is written on the overwhelming chalkboard)

Friend 1: (Squinting) Three times – Brontë, who – apartheid, when – igneous, sedimentary, and metamorphic rocks, that – mi chiamo, che – differential equations?!

Teacher: (Standing at the front of the classroom, head almost touching the ceiling and growing every second) Now class, please turn in your reports on the entire science textbook that were due today.

Friend 1: (As all the other students hold out packets of neatly typed reports with perfectly formatted cover sheets) But – but – today is the first day of school – ?

Teacher: (Leans down from the heights to get in Friend 1’s face) THIS WAS YOUR SUMMER READING PROJECT!  YOU HAD MORE THAN TWO MONTHS TO COMPLETE IT!

Friend 1: But – but – a report on a science textbook?

Teacher: THE ENTIRE BOOK!

Friend 1: But – but – I don’t have it –

Teacher: YOU’D BETTER HAVE IT BY TOMORROW OR YOU’LL REPEAT THIS GRADE BEFORE YOU EVEN STARTED IT!  (Straightens up and addresses the rest of the room) Now class, let’s begin our study of the American, English, and Russian Civil Wars by simultaneously proving Fermat’s Last Theorem and translating the Constitution of France into Middle English, backwards –

(Friend 1’s eyes snap open as a buzzing cell phone nearly falls off the lamp table)

Friend 1: (Answering the phone) Hellllllllooooooo????

Friend 2: (On a cell phone at an office desk) You sound awful – everything OK?

Friend 1: It is now; what’s up?

Friend 2: Well, I was gonna leave a message just checking on whether you’ve gotten over your “Back to School Phobia” or whatever it is you have going on.

Friend 1: (Lies back and rubs forehead) Actually, I just woke up from a nightmare about the whole thing, and it was probably the worst dream I’ve ever had in my entire life.

Friend 2: Oh, wow, that stinks.

Friend 1: Yeah.  But, in a strange way, I think it may have been exactly what I needed.

Friend 2: How so?

Friend 1: Well, it was so ridiculously and unrealistically horrible that now my actual memories aren’t so bad in comparison.

Friend 2: (Leans back in desk chair in triumph) So: I was right.

Friend 1: Don’t rub it in.  Suffice it to say, I am now at peace with Back to School and can look upon that time fondly and enjoy this season at last.

Friend 2: Good, because the reason why I was only going to leave a message instead of having this full-blown conversation is that I figured at this point in the day you’d be at post-school era, adult-world work, so now I think you’re about two hours late.

Friend 1: …I wanna go back to school.

Story 404: A Midsummer Night’s Autumn

 In the 95°F late August weather, The Employee clocks out of work at 5:00 p.m. and transforms into The Commuter, soon to become The Shopper – there is always some kind of work to be done.

The bus’s air conditioning does battle with the extreme heat and humidity during the ride through the city; the passengers melt off at each stop, the driver nearly joining them every time.

The sun has been setting a minute earlier each day; at night, the heat remains.

The Commuter evaporates into The Shopper while exiting the bus and floats into a department store; the sweat immediately turns to icicles and The Shopper condenses as the overpowered air conditioning blasts the entire building.  The Shopper’s internal thermodynamics are thrown in a state of array and run off screaming.

The Shopper is likewise befuddled: “Is this Halloween?”

The entire store is decorated in various shades of orange, brown, and black; fake falling leaves are everywhere; possibly-fake cobwebs are strung amongst displays.

The Shopper plunges through a pile of football season paraphernalia to grab a shopping cart, and the trek through the store begins.

One item needed is a replacement beach umbrella, which is tucked away in Summer Clearance: “But I’m going there this weekend!  The lifeguards are still on duty!  Why is all the beach stuff shoved out of the season?!”

At the end of an aisle is a few sunscreen bottles; as The Shopper reaches for one, a motion sensor is tripped and a cackling witch flashes its LED eyes at passers-by.  The Shopper jumps only slightly: “Oh, dear.”

Ghosts and goblins line the walls and shelves, and the constant breeze stirs up the haphazardly strewn leaves and strategically strewn hay bales.

At the store’s café, The Shopper stands on line to buy a lemonade.  The frazzled barista finishes the three-course-meal order of the previous customer and turns to The Shopper: “Hello, would you like to try our pumpkin spice coffee, our pumpkin spice scone, and/or our pumpkin spice pumpkin?”

“…Not today, thank you.”

Sipping the lemonade, The Shopper wanders into the holiday section of the store, which has been converted into a haunted house.

“Beware of midnight, bwahahahaha!!!!” an employee dressed as a werewolf at the house’s entrance greets The Shopper.

The latter checks a watch: “But it’s only 7:00.”

The werewolf’s snarling face stares blankly at The Shopper, who continues on to the candy aisle haunted by products not really needed for another two months: “Ooh, sea salt caramels, yoink!”  Into the cart they go.

The ceiling speakers burst into spooky music at random intervals to announce discounts for the fall; as The Shopper enters one aisle covered in school supplies, the banners strung all over the place and the speakers both scream: “Back to School Sale!”

“Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!”

“You’re telling me,” a child says to The Shopper while being forcefully guided into the aisle by their parent.

Shopping completed, The Shopper transforms once more into The Commuter as the journey home begins.  The sky darkens as night approaches; the temperature is now 88°F; and the sweat resumes its previous activity as the wait for a new bus commences.

The Commuter looks forward to one last day at the beach, filled with sand, surf, and people just everywhere, and a book to read in front of the crashing waves after making the inconvenient trip all the way out there.  While boarding the steaming bus whose air conditioning had surrendered in defeat, The Commuter sees a ginormous sign stretched over the street ahead:

COME SEE OUR THANKSGIVING DAY PARADE NOVEMBER 25!!!