The tall ugly kid that had a Masters Degree in Political Science was trying to explain to me something that I could care less to know. He told me that he was going to change the world, that he would save our generation by leading uneducated people such as myself into protests and social reform in order to make America better for everyone. Halfway through his speech he had to stop and approach a lady, “Hello, welcome to Harris Teeter, how may I help you today?” he said.
One step at a time I thought.
I walked into the back storage area to avoid helping costumers and to take a swig from my flask. For what I’m being paid I shouldn’t have to listen to politics from a 20 year old kid with two degrees and Bentley in the parking lot.
Working in a grocery store aimed towards rich people in a rich section of town meant that I had to deal with the cream of the crop, the real go getters, the ones that wore three-piece suits for fun even though they never worked. Not a damn one of them.
Everyone that shops and works here have the degrees and qualifications of a doctor yet do nothing at all because they haven’t yet learned that one great skill, “communication.”