Tuesday, July 20, 2004

People allow the worst things about themselves to show.

I pick up a lot of macrobiotic nutrients at Trader Joe's, a chain of socially-conscious grocery stores which carry a more enlightened line of product than your average Safeway or Albertson's. Today as I was waiting in the checkout line I noticed that one of their checkers, an older biker-looking man with a full pot belly, had on bizarrely large and rounded black shoes, as though he had cartoon feet. He also wore tight, thick grey socks which went exactly halfway up each calf and seemed to cover some sort of bracing. They were obviously therapeutic, and my analysis was that the man's true feet had been amputated due to a car accident or diabetes. These bizarre housings hid, according to my assessment, prosthetic machinery.

Now, if I were in charge of Trader Joe's, I would have to enforce some sort of decorum in uniform. I would not allow my customers to be distracted by the physical tragedies of my employees. For who would want to stock their larders at a shop with sad war stories loping about? I say this only for the good of the economy and of that particular chain. I suggest that that man either be (a) fired, or (b) repurposed to some sort of back stockroom position, where he would not scare off the buying dollar.