Treadmill

VII.II

3:52 PM. Eight minutes before her shift was supposed to start.

The grocery store was never very busy at the beginning of Rebecca's 4 PM shift. People were still at work or picking their kids up from school and daycare. The store was usually just home to the different potheads waiting for their dealers and college kids grabbing ramen for the night. Not a big crowd. Which usually meant that Rebecca herself was perfectly content with waltzing in and taking her sweet time talking to coworkers and managers before actually finding her way to a cash register.

It was the best part of her shift. She caught up on all the gossip and everything going on in the schools of the 50-something-year-old customer service reps' children, from the times of after-school basketball practices to which PTA mom was sleeping with which assistant varsity coach dad. It was always the richest ones; the ones who could pay the private investigators their spouses hired to lie to their spouses about their findings.

"Rebecca, come here." Janie, a forty-six-year-old customer service rep who always complained about her son's high school football coach, gestured for Rebecca to walk over to a group of customers surrounding her. Rebecca nodded and motioned towards the back door before rushing to clock in. She wasn't going to deal with customers without being paid for it.

"Ma'am, this is Rebecca Eaves, one of our best cashiers. I'm sure she could answer your question." Janie told a woman standing in front of her as Rebecca walked quickly up to the gaggle of people. The woman turned around, sighing loudly as she saw Rebecca—and by proxy, saw that she was a college student.

Adults tended to not trust college students, in Rebecca's experience.

"Hi, my name's Rebecca, can I help you out with anything today?"

"Obviously, she just told you that I need help." The woman rolled her eyes, "I need to know how to use the chicken broth you have in aisle four. It says that there's a specific way to use it and I don't want to mess up my enchiladas."

Rebecca caught Janie's eye and saw the older woman stifle a laugh.

"Well ma'am, I'm not sure if I can help you with that. We just sell the chicken broth, we don't actually have any training on how to use it for specific dishes."

The woman's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Then what are you getting paid for?" She exclaimed, "Your entire job could be done by a self-checkout machine!"

"Very good point." Rebecca nodded, trying her best to keep her tone from being condescending but knowing that she was failing at that, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

The woman rolled her eyes and huffed loudly before stomping off, shoving Rebecca in the shoulder as she went. Rebecca kept herself from laughing before walking off to find a register, ready to speak to more customers who would berate her for not knowing the prices of things off the top of her head or for not putting up flashing lights around things that were excluded from the sale prices or promotions.

She logged into register 5 before feeling her Fitbit buzz on her wrist. She flipped her wrist over, and the small screen lit up with the name "Kennedy Abrams," with a small phone icon next to it.

Rebecca checked to make sure no customer service reps were around before pulling her phone out of her pocket and answering it quietly.

"Hello?"

"Rebecca, good." Kennedy's voice came through loud and clear, "I need you to come over."

Rebecca checked the time on the register. 4:02. Her shift had just barely started.