I was watching the Local News this morning, where the following conversation took place on television:

Desk Anchor: “So, Bill… looks like we are going to get some snow today, then?”

Weather Minion: “Yeah. How much snow we get depends on how much stuff falls out of the sky today.”

Really. And here I was assuming that the City came by with trucks and spread the snow all over the ground. I see those trucks driving around, spraying white stuff all over the road, and then I wake up the next day, and there is snow on the ground! I just assumed that was one of the many services we got with our tax dollars. You mean the stuff just falls out of the sky? For free?

* * *

I go into my job today expecting to work, which is actually out of the ordinary. There’s a Snow Scare. A big, nasty Alberta Clipper is coming. That’s one of those weather terms that become part of the common vernacular during weeks like this. Like when your co-worker gets called for Jury Duty and uses terms like “preponderance of evidence” and “ex parte” in normal conversations for the next six months.

I was not disappointed. I did, in fact, work my ass off today. I bagged groceries for a while. Back to my roots. I have not worked as a bagger in over 11 years. But let me tell you, I put some of these other kids to shame. I never lost the touch. I’m fast – and that’s important – but the one thing that sets me apart from any of the 16 year old morons putting your groceries in paper or plastic is that I treat the customer’s groceries like they are my own.

One lady asked me to help her out to her car. I only had my hoodie on, but I’m not going to make this woman wait while I run up to my office to get my coat and hat, so off I went. I followed this woman outside to her car – a gigantic Mercedes SUV.

“Put them in the back seat,” she said flatly, while opening the back door. I looked at her parking job. She was parked crookedly in this spot, and only about 8 inches from the car next to her. I could barely get myself between there, let alone this cart of groceries. Luckily, I was saved by her husband’s negligence.

“Oh shoot,” she frowned. “He has his… well, the back seat is out of the question then,” she stated, making a sweeping hand motion towards the back of the Mercedes. “Put them in the back, then.”

I opened the hatch on the back of the monstrosity, and began loading this huge order into this vehicular pornography. I could no longer feel my nose or cheeks. The woman got in the front seat and immediately started her car. So now I’m standing there – hands and face frozen – loading this woman’s fucking arugula into her $60,000 planet-killing piece of crap, all the while being heavily bombarded with exhaust fumes while she sits in her heated leather seat and turns the radio onto the Sean Hannity Show.

I went inside to get my heavy wool jacket, gloves, hat and muffler. Now fully protected from the cold, I went back outside. People came and went, hurried as ever. Mean as ever. Self-absorbed as ever. Honking at pedestrians to hurry across the street when they are in a heated luxury car, talking on their cell phone. Almost running into one another with their cars and carts. Yelling. Screaming. More honking. I don’t know why people overreact like this every time snow falls from the sky.

It’s not like they have to pay for it.

 

 

 

 

 

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