Six
My name is Darren and the strangest thing happened to me this morning.
For some reason, I was under the impression that it was Friday, but it was actually Saturday. Sure, that might happen to some people, but I’ve never done it. I mean, I’ve confused the days of the week before, but that was only during the school year, and you can’t exactly blame me, right? Especially when you’re in high school and the days all seem to blend together. But I’ve never, not once in my entire life, woke up on a Saturday morning thinking that it was Friday.
And yet, there I was, bushy eyed and tired, not looking forward to the day of work that awaited me. See, I am one of many employees at the local grocers. I work the noon shifts Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and the night shift on Saturday. I never used to work so many hours, but since the summer, all I ever seem to do is stack shelves and deal with stupid customers, who are always complaining about produce. I mean, honestly, just because I’m a grocer, it doesn’t mean I know about ripened fruits. So you can’t blame me for being a bit grumpy when I woke up that morning, thinking that I had to go to work in a couple of hours.
So I got ready. It’s not exactly worth noting, really. My morning routine is usually composed of showering, and changing into whatever I had that wasn’t dirty or stained. I was moving rather slowly, too, as I was still mostly asleep. I’m not exactly what you’d call an early riser. It’s not that I hate my job or anything, it’s just...it’s a grocery store. It’s not as exciting as you’d think. I do my job well, but that doesn’t mean I like doing it. You just can’t get very far with a few dollars in your wallet; not at my age.
So I walked sluggishly down the stairs, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. My dog was jumping around and wagging his tail. My dog got a kick out of seeing anyone, really. He loves attention. I don’t remember a single time he has ever barked at a stranger. He was always spinning in a circle with his tail wagging. I gave him a quick rub on the head before heading into the kitchen for a quick bite. And imagine my surprise when I saw my family sitting at the table for breakfast.
Why was I so surprised? Well, everyone’s usually working during the week, even Sal. I guess it’s safe for me to give you minor details about what my family does. My dad is an office manager for a small company in the city—I think they do something in paper, or plastic, or something like that—and my mom is a kindergarten teacher. Sal got a part time job at the mall to pay off her half of her tuition—as agreed upon by her parents. We’re a pretty interesting bunch really: an office manager working a dead end job, an overly happy kindergarten teacher, a mall rat and a grocer. Meanwhile, I have friends whose parents are music producers and lawyers. I got a manager and a teacher for parents…
Anyways, the point is, they should have been working that morning. I mean, it was Friday. Usually I wake up to an empty house, and now my parents and my cousin were eating waffles at the table, making small talk?
My dad looked up at me and said, “Morning there. You’re up early.”
“Yea…I have to work in a few hours…” I said, confused. “Why is everyone home? Did you all just happen to get the same day off?”
And they all threw me this look; like I was the biggest moron on the planet. They were all squinty eyes and raised eyebrows.
“You realize that it’s the weekend, right?” Sal asked, grinning.
“But…it’s Friday.” I said, shaking my head. “I mean…yea, it is. Isn’t it?”
“I cannot believe you forgot it was Saturday.” Sal laughed. “I mean, I’ve seen stuff like this before—on TV!”
Everyone seemed to think that my confusion was hilarious. Meanwhile I was trying really hard to grasp that it was really Saturday.
“That’s weird…I swear it feels like it should be Friday.” I insisted.
“Don’t beat yourself up, sport.” My dad said. “Sit down and have some waffles. You’re probably over worked or stressed.”
“Overworked?” Sal snorted. “He’s a grocer. It’s the summer. What’s there to be stressed about?”
I slumped down on the stool in between my mother and Sal. Are kitchen has one of those islands that functions as a table. We have a dining room table, but that’s only for really special occasions, like Christmas, or Easter, or at family gatherings. My family was all eating and laughing and talking about what happened at work yesterday, while I sat there, staring down at my waffles, thinking about how yesterday should technically be today. I tried really hard to think about what I did yesterday morning. I started backtracking.
Alright, it was a Friday morning—yesterday, apparently—so you would have taken a shower, got dressed and ate a bowl of cereal…But you did most of that this morning…Just think…What did I do yesterday morning, and why can’t I remember? Friday…Friday…I have work at noon on Fridays…Did I go to work yesterday? Yea…yea, I did. I remember that much because Jack asked if I could cover his shift that night…I told him I couldn’t because I had to do something…What was I do…Watching the neighbours kids! I promised my neighbour that I’d watch her kids for a few hours while she worked a double shift…
I was stumped after that. I remembered work and watching the neighbour kids, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember anything that happened after work. I might have gone home afterwards—it seemed like something I would do—but I couldn’t be sure…
“Darren, are you listening?”
“Yea…” I mumbled. “Wait, what?”
My dad laughed. “Still out of it, eh? Listen, your mom and I are going downtown to the mall. We need you to pick up a few groceries for us while we’re out.”
“Why can’t Sal do it?” I asked.
“Because I’m taking a tour of the university this afternoon.” Sal said. “I’m going to be out all afternoon. I probably won’t be back until nine tonight.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” my mother said. “You’re working tonight anyway; you may as well pick up a few things while you’re at it.”
“Fine.” I said, biting into a piece of waffle. “What are you two love birds doing downtown anyway?”
“Your mother wants to look at furniture.” My dad said, with mock enthusiasm. “Lucky for me.”
“Actually, your father was the one who suggested it.” My mother smiled.
“Yea, it was my suggestion.” My dad rolled his eyes. “You said there was a knick in the dresser. I said, ‘Oh, maybe we should think about replacing it.’ And that minor thought turns into a thirty minute drive to some warehouse in the city.”
They went on like that for a while before they got dressed to leave for the mall. Sal hung around for a couple of hours, but she spent most of her time looking up courses on her laptop. Apparently, I had about five hours before I had to go to work, so I had nothing to do. By the time Sal left for her little tour, I had watched two movies and made a sandwich. And do you know what I did after all that excitement? I vacuumed the house.
I was supposed to clean the house anyways. My parents are big on chores, but they want me to help out from time to time. It’s no big deal, really. I’m actually really anal when it comes to cleaning, to be perfectly honest. I’m not some sort of freak who needs to have every single thing in the exact same place it had been previously, but I hate to see a messy room. I don’t know why, but it bothers me. Anyways, vacuuming the house only took about an hour of my time, so I still had a lot of time to kill.
“I guess that means I’ll have to get the groceries.” I mumbled. “Maybe I can figure out what the hell happened last night in the meantime.”
So I walked to the grocery store. All the while I was struggling to remember what happened the previous night. By this point I was quite certain about what happened Friday morning. In fact, I remembered it all quite clearly. But the hours between work and sleep were blurred. I vaguely recall walking out of the grocery store, but I couldn’t remember where I was going, how I was doing, or how, exactly, I got home last night. And it was really starting to bug me.
I walked into the grocery store, like I had done a billion times since I started working there last fall. It wasn’t the biggest store. In fact, there was a much larger supermarket closer to the mall. But it was a decent place. I walked up to where they kept the grocery karts and headed to the cereal aisle. And guess who was standing there, stacking the shelves like some lowly stock boy? None other than my assistant manager, Wayne. He was doing the job that I would have been doing, had it been Friday, and not Saturday.
“Well if it isn’t one of my lovely employees,” Wayne said, placing a box of Cheerio’s on the shelf with the other dozens of boxes of the same brand. “What are you doing here, Darren? You don’t have to work until six.”
“Yea, well you know me,” I said, cheerfully. “I am the perfect employee.”
“You’re hardly a perfect employee.” Wayne snorted. “Not that you have much competition…”
I guess I should take some time to explain the mystery that is Wayne. Wayne is three years out of high school, lives in a cramped apartment a few blocks away, and works as the assistant manager at the local grocers. You see, most people work at a supermarket part time to pay for college, or just to scrape together some money to go out. Wayne loves his job, and I mean loves it. His biggest goal is to become a regional manager; as if that’s a huge accomplishment. He’s a perfectionist, and that’s the nice way of putting it. He’s always giving me lip about how you can only stack certain brands together—you know, cheerio’s with cheerio’s, frosted flakes with frosted flakes, yadda yadda yadda. And he never laughs at any of my jokes, which gives me the impression that he doesn’t like me very much. Funny enough, Wayne wasn’t the assistant manager when I got hired.
“Well that’s one person’s opinion.” I said, grabbing a box of bran for Sal. “I’m surprised I haven’t been named employee of the month by now.”
Wayne turned to me and gave me a look. You know the one; it was that I’m-a-very-busy-man-and-have-no-time-for-any-funny-business look. He gives that look a lot, really.
“I don’t have time for your jokes, Darren.” He mumbled. “We’re under staff as it is. These shelves won’t stack themselves.”
“Hey, I’m just here buying cereal. You’re the one who started talking to me.” I said, raising my hands. I was just about to turn to leave when a thought struck me. “Say, Wayne, did I come to work last night?”
“I’m really busy right now, Darren.” Wayne said, sternly. “I don’t have time to chat about whether Captain Crunch could beat the Tricks rabbit in a wrestling match, or whatever.”
“I’m not joking around. For some reason I’m a bit fuzzy on the details of what happened last night.” I said, seriously.
“Yea, you came to work.” He said, rolling his eyes. “You were late, too.”
“But I came to work.” I said. “That’s good…Do you know where I went afterwards?”
“No, because the personal lives of my subordinate is none of my business.” Wayne said, waspishly.
“Well did I mention anything to you about where I was going after work?” I pressed. “Or did I talk to anyone last night?”
Wayne sighed. “You’re not going to leave me alone unless I answer, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Fine, whatever. I saw you talking to Bart just before closing—but don’t ask, because I have no idea what you were talking about.”
“Bart…great. Is he working today?”
“Yea, actually. He’s one of the few people who showed up. Apparently, everyone else is sick.” Wayne laughed, as if the thought of a few workers catching a cold was completely absurd. Later, I found out that one of those employees caught the measles, while the other two really did have colds. Only one guy was skipping work that day, a guy I know named Derek.
“Great—thanks for the help, Wayne.” I said, moving my kart passed Wayne and down the aisle. “And, by the way,” I said, shouting over my shoulder. “The tricks rabbit would totally kick Captain Crunch’s ass in any fight, anywhere. All he needs to do is catch those kids.”
Later, I found Bart working the register. I had to wait behind three very large women—obviously mothers—before I could ask Bart if he remembered what I said to him the other night. It would really be a kick in the ass if I waited all that time just to find out that I told him a joke.
“Hey, Darren. You’re not working today?” Bart asked, handling my groceries.
“I got the night shift.” I told him, taking out my wallet and waiting for him to finish up.”
“Lucky bastard,” Bart laughed. “You won’t have to deal with Wayne tonight.”
“Yea, but I won’t get off until closing, so it’s a small victory.” I replied. “Say, Bart, do you remember if I said anything to you last night?”
“Well, you were telling me some joke about a woman from Helsinki—“
“Anything else?” I asked, quickly. “Did I tell you if I was doing anything after work?”
Bart thought for a moment. “You said you were going to a Valentina’s house, I think.”
“Are you sure I said Valentina?”
“Well you talk about her enough,” Bart said, grinning. “So, I’m pretty sure you said Valentina.”
“Alright, great…Thanks, Bart.” I said, excitedly; having finally found a lead to a night that I couldn’t remember. “Say, who do you think would win in a wrestling match Captain Crunch, or the Trick’s Rabbit?”
“Definitely Captain Crunch,” Bart answered. “The guy has a ship. And besides, the Tricks Rabbit can’t even catch a few kids with a bowl of cereal. How is he supposed to win a fight?”
By the way, just because I’m curious, who do you think would win in a fight—Captain Crunch, or the Tricks Rabbit?
