8:54 a.m.- I stood steady in a four foot isle with my head facing the ground. One made specifically with its width for the accommodations of any and all individuals needing the space; the kind of people that they like to put a label on, like their disabilities aren’t already enough of one. Overnight stocking has recently become an employment of mine, and I stood with my eyes fixed onto the label of only one of all of these (What most people crudely call embarrassing) items whose shelves I was entitled to refill. Somehow pharmacy was forced to fall into the category of condoms, lubes, diapers, and tampons. But I guess it does arguably have its equal amounts of pros and cons. What am I to say, anyways? I’m just a stock boy. The clock hears me stutter to myself off in the distance and my sighs bounce between each of its ticks.
If only this break would come quicker.
8:57 a.m.-I never understood why people steal condoms when you can just go to your local Health Clinic and avoid the risk of being arrested for something so idiotic. I can’t imagine what the rest of the store must go through every day; more of a mess for us, and just a few more (More than likely) sorry assholes who in no way needed to do that. Finishing the isle, I reminded myself how complaining never made anyone happy, especially me, so let’s stray from anything that opposes that.” I picked a quicker than usual pace, as to get myself out of that isle crawling with everyone else’s insecurities, embarrassment, and awkwardness; the air was dense with it. You could read it on their faces so clearly that it’s enough to make your stomach light. I just don’t get it. People worry so much about the wrong things, over even a stranger’s presence.
8:58 a.m.- On my exit an older couple enters the end of the isle ten feet in front of me. The man seemed relaxed, but the woman seemed hesitant to expose her face. Before I could even reach the end of the isle, she had snatched (what all people with certain health/mental problems, obviously need) a package of adult sized diapers from the shelf and stuffed them into her cart. I then noticed another employee whom was working the opposite isle on the opposite end, and he laughed lightly to himself when he saw her. “Fucking asshole,” I thought. “I knew that there was something about this guy…”Her pace accelerated by two and she went off into another section of the store. I could even hear her cart’s vibrations and wheels slowly dying in the distance from how quickly she was moving. Clearly, and understandably, she was embarrassed; far too embarrassed for one’s own good, especially when concerning something that you can’t help. My heart took a blow for her, and I caught it just before it could hit the floor. Poor woman, I thought; poor soulless stock boy who probably works the over night shifts for a reason, I said to myself; poor world, I shamefully admitted with an exhale. I wish that I would have said something to ease her tension, but she was gone before I could blink an eye. But what I wish more is that people wouldn’t judge or banter another for what is out of their control; there is difference between humor and offense. No wonder why most people are so self-conscious. People in the wrong spots cross that line like it was never there to begin with; sadly because many of them were never taught the decency of the whole idea in the first place. That or they never cared to begin with. Or they grew to sadly end up with the attitude where they spite the world because of its spite.
We meet at the end of the aisle…
Me (Picking up a can of pressurized, flammable woman’s deodorant and then the small Bic lighter that just so happened to be in my pocket): Hey, stock boy ****?!
Him (with somewhat of an oddly, surprised face): Yo, what’s up?!
Me: Stand still so I can light your stupid ass on fire really quick?! You’re taking up precious space and I could really use the leg room.
Him: (Blank stare)
Me: It will only take a second dude, come on!
You know those memories that stay locked in your head; the ones that are there for a lifetime; the ones imprinted on your soul and weigh heavily in the decisions that you make towards others? Often time they remain vague and hardly fade, or lose their colors, or their definition. The outlines of every object stay clear, and the lessons that come attached with them sting just as much as the moment that you found yourself caught in with them. These horrible moments; these horrible, life altering moments. It’s like being stuck in a cage with a fucking lion; they can tear you apart if you don’t know how to handle the situation, which most people don’t. In an instant you find yourself desperately caught in a struggle to slip through the bars of the cage, but find yourself too big to fit. You turn your head to see every instrument on this animal that has been specifically created to tear apart every inch of your body. Even your skin at this point, holds no comfort towards this current moment, and the next few that will follow; it even starts to burn in its own sense. Who in their lifetime possibly could not experience this? Everyone eventually runs into their own personal moment of shame and embarrassment; the moments where you beg and are desperate to find your way out of, but turn to find that the cage is too small to escape, and the only way out is straight through every incisor and sharpened edge and point on that horrible, overwhelming force standing eye to eye with you. These horrible fucking moments…God knows that I have had my share.
I’ve often been asked why exactly I’m as nice of a person as I am. I honestly don’t think that I am that nice at all. I just keep in mind that every other individual that I set my eyes and/or ears on holds the same feelings and emotions that I do; and at any second, they’re just as capable of feeling any and all of the horrible feelings that I have felt as well. I find myself torn with this. Without them, I would have never learned to never put another in a situation that resembles them. With them, well it leaves a shooting pain that trails up your entire spine and you never forget it, and often time neither do others. People ask me, “Well what, do you think that the rest of the world should be like you or something?” I laugh and respond with a, “Hell no. I just think that if everyone just tried a bit harder to be a better person, then the world would be a much better place, that’s all.” I don’t know what fool would ever sacrifice individuality for themselves; that would be something else. It’s just the fact that it comes down to the same exact point that is made over and over. It’s so cliché that it drives me insane: Treat people how you want to be treated. If no one acted as if this woman’s condition was funny in the least, but understood it and that there is no way that she could control it, then really it’s a normal thing in its own sense. It’s not normal if you can help this, but refuse to. And obviously you cannot simply tell from looks which category of these two that the person falls under, but why take the chance that they fall under the wrong one, despite the fact that this shouldn’t matter anyways? Yeah, you may not be used to seeing it, but don’t call someone out on it if they don’t know you well enough to know to take it as a joke. That puts a fucking curse and cloud over their heads because now every time that they have to walk into a store to purchase something of that nature, they now will (Most of the time) carry that weight on their shoulders and that fear that someone else will do it again. And all it takes is one time.
I remember one of my first few days of kindergarten. I woke up, my mom helped me get ready, and I watched Power Rangers before I had to go to school. After that my sister and I left, with my Power Rangers lunch box in hand, and my mom started the van and began to drive off. We sat down in class and if we were going to be eating lunch from the school then we were to raise our hands so our teacher (Mrs. Romanoff) could take a count for how many lunches to make. I was confused and I raised my hand, and I was counted to have a lunch to be made for, which I would have to pay for. I had no money and at the time I thought that I would get into trouble for making the mistake that I did. I tried to hold it in, but I started to cry in fear of what would happen and that my mom would be mad at me for it. I was rarely in trouble, so whenever I was it was a big deal to me. One or two kids around me asked me what was wrong and I was too upset to reply. It’s funny how incredibly overdramatic that I was. My teacher then noticed me and asked me what the problem was, so I stuttered that I accidentally raised my hand when I didn’t mean to. She looked to me and said that it’s okay, it’s not a problem, and that another student had just arrived late so he can take my place! I was so relieved. I really didn’t know what to expect anyways to begin with. Right after, I noticed a few other students laughing while they were staring right at me. I knew that they were laughing at me, but I just looked down and tried my best to forget about it. It was something out of my hands, emotionally. If I could have kept from crying, I would have. That moment stayed with me that entire year. Every so often a student would tease me about it, and every time I felt as big of a knot in my stomach as when it happened.
There was one student who never made fun of me for it, or for anything else. His name was Thorne and he was my best friend, and he stayed that way for quite some time. On the opposing hand of these kids that found humor in my moment of embarrassment, Thorne only understood and never made fun of me for it; he only helped me at the situation and as unaware of it as I was while I was that young, he didn’t judge me over it either; not a single ounce. It was a comforting feeling that only comes attached with a certain few select people and often, a best friend. This is where I learned that you don’t judge, deride, or ridicule another’s moments, such as these, not even an ounce; not even a fraction of an ounce. Because that feeling of embarrassment, awkwardness, and insecurity that came attached with my moment was trampled by the comfort that I felt from the free feeling of being judged and attacked that Thorne gave off. This feeling of comfort is a major emotional feeling that sparks a friendship of the best kind, but most people fail to see this. You don’t have to have only one or two best friends; there’s more to it than just luck of the draw, which is how I’ve noticed a lot of people to see it as. This is one technique that you can use as a person, to ensure that all of your friends are best friends. A person who knows that you aren’t going to judge, deride, or ridicule them harshly (in the wrong ways) over their not-so-glorious actions is going to pick you over a person who will, any day. And as I grew, every other situation that came about only reinforced this learning and this lesson; every single situation that was one hundred times the importance of mine in kindergarten. And what I have hoped to gain is the ability to give off that comfort as well, where no one feels judged over what can only be unfairly judged; where no one looks at me as just another asshole who can’t stop to think about another for even one second; where people have respect for me as opposed to a hatefully distorted outlook.
Because you don’t judge, deride, or ridicule the woman whose health issues caused her to have to buy what she had to buy. You don’t judge, deride, or ridicule the kid who thought that he would get into trouble, when that was the last thing that he ever wanted. You don’t judge, deride, or ridicule the kid who can’t read because his surroundings made it impossible for him to learn. You don’t judge, deride, or ridicule the kid whose mental disabilities caused him to dream to be a bus driver one day, but they are also what will hold him back from that. You don’t judge, deride, or ridicule the woman buying tampons simply because it’s a natural part of life; grow the fuck up already. You don’t judge, deride, or ridicule the individual buying uncommon health supplements, simply because their body is in need of it. You judge when there’s room to judge; when the select individual has control over it. Otherwise, in all likeliness, you’re just another asshole.
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