Stories from a Small Town

The Radio

 The radio crackling to life is normally a good thing. It always reminded me that I wasn't alone in the store. Sure, I knew there had to be at least one manager in the store at all times, but sometimes I'd forget that. Sometimes, the silence in the store was so deafening I'd question if I had gotten transported to a liminal space. Words spoken through the radio were often distorted or unclear, but the phrases usually remained the same. Backup to the register, do we have this item, where does this go, does anyone know where the ladder is. All of them were familiar and things I never realized I took comfort in.

"Hey um... I saw this really weird guy. H-he bought some candy, left, and now he's back in the store eating the candy and holding a white plastic bag? He's headed towards the back."

Grabbing the small plastic button on my earpiece, I felt the familiar click and waited a few seconds before speaking. It always takes a second or two before the radio actually starts to pick up one's voice.

"I'll go see if I can look for him."

Stepping out from behind the cutting counter, I made my way back towards the fine arts and t-shirt section. I always felt safe working at Joanns. With my past jobs, I would always wake up feeling nauseous at the idea of needing to go to work. There were times where it was so bad, I'd stop eating. I was losing weight, customer interactions were becoming more and more vile, and the constant smell of cigarettes and weed were slowly becoming the norm. I was genuinely worried for both my physical and mental health at these old jobs. But not at Joanns. It did take a few weeks for me to adjust to working in this new environment, but I always knew I was safe. There wasn't a day where I worried about my safety in the store.

In that moment, however, the weight of the scissor I had been using to cut fabric and the feeling of the box cutter that I needed to help stock became more prevalent. I went from walking in sync with the rhythm of the in-store radio to a shuffle as I neared the edge of the fine arts section. I had a perfect view of the small alcove that houses the bathrooms, the locked office, and the unlocked break room. There was a group of three women and one little girl standing near the t-shirts. They were minding their own business, talking and looking at the products. There was nothing wrong with them, but there was something that still bothered me, something I couldn't explain but that made the scissors and box cutter become heavier.

Then, I saw the man. He walked out from the small, dimly lit alcove, from the direction of the unlocked break room, white plastic bag swaying at his side and occasionally bouncing against his worn jeans. He looked directly at me. What was most likely one or two seconds turned into what felt like an hour. I felt a lump rising in my throat and I turned, darting back to the perceived safety of the cut counter. Grabbing the small plastic button and pressing it harder than necessary, I leaned against the counter and tapped my foot against the mat.

"I saw him by the bathrooms. He came out from where the break room was. I'm worried he went in and stole our stuff."

"Alright, I'll go back there and take a look as soon as I get the chance."

Hearing the voice of a manager was slightly relieving. Granted, she was still new to this specific store, but she had worked in customer service for a while. She knew what she was doing, and I knew she'd come running if I called. I was safe. I was safe. Nothing bad was going to happen. I was safe.

I mulled about the cut counter for what felt like ages. I wanted to go do more stocking, take my mind off what had just happened, but my mind began to wander. A weight began to slowly form on my shoulders and my breathing was becoming unsteady. Metal carts full of fabric acted as my only protection from behind. I began to go through each bolt of fabric, acting like I was going to try and organize them to make it easier when it came time for me to put them all away. If I pretended everything was fine, then it would be, right?