A handwritten sign on the pump said “Debt no working, please come insid.” So I pocketed my card and tiptoed through the January slush to the door of the Gas ‘n’ Sip. I did a circle around the interior of the store hoping to find a package of the vanilla Zingers I had become addicted to during my first semester at college. As I brought my treat to the counter I the clerk was staring at me. It was Melissa Leto, a girl I went to school with. She was in my kindergarten class; I had almost literally known her my entire life. I probably hadn’t spoken to her since some time in elementary school. We didn’t run in the same circles.
She looked rough. Her Gas ‘n’ Sip uniform was stained and her hair was a tangled mess. I always pictured her as a little cutie, but apparently high school and the first year afterwards did not agree with her. I tried to think of anything recent I knew about her, but I couldn’t think of one thing. I didn’t even know who she dated in school or anything. We went to a small enough school that those stories usually got around. She was a complete blank in my memory since we pushed each other on the swings. She looked like she might be pregnant, but it was hard to tell with the ratty uniform.
I said, “So Lissie, how’ it going?”
She sighed, “Oh man my feet are killing me. I hate this job. I just stand here all day. I asked my manager for a stool, but she said no. I had to go out and change the trash bags at the pumps while it was sleeting and I slipped and got my pants all wet, but since I’m the only one here I can’t go home and change. I really hate it here, but I can’t stay at home anymore, so I’ve go to keep working so I can afford an apartment.”
Now I’m not a big stickler for the social contract. And I like conversations where people stop the bullshit and get real. But I think “Fine,” was the only socially acceptable answer for her to give me here. I don’t care about this girl. I don’t care about her problems. If I hadn’t known the girl’s name, I probably wouldn’t have even said anything while I paid for my gas. How am I supposed to react to a core dump like that? I’ve got to get back to college, I’m not going to sit there and try to solve her problems. If someone you barely know asks you how you are, you are socially obligated to answer “Fine.” It’s just basic politeness. What was I supposed to say?
So I said, “Um…well…I’m sorry? I hope tomorrow is a better day for you. See ya later!” And I got out of there, and got on with my life. I hope she did too.
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