What the Hell Are You Doing Here?

Ever have flashbacks? A recent exchange with an old friend prompted this one. It’s 1966 and I’m in grade 11, working at the local grocery store fifteen hours a week. (Starting at 80 cents an hour. After three months I was moved up to a dollar.) I loved that job. Kept me in gas. Gave me more than enough for a Friday and Saturday night date both.

Sometimes, if the store got busy on one of my off nights, Linus, my boss, would call me. But he hardly ever called on a Monday night… until he did. “Weirdly busy Rick. Can you clock in?”

I show up at 6 PM and the store is almost empty. I punch the time clock anyway and head to the front to pack groceries for customers. Except there are none. Anita is on the till.  “What the hell are you doing here?” she says at the same time Linus appears. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Me: You called me.

Linus: Nope.

Me: Uh huh.

Me: Nope. Punch out.

Me: Do I get paid for the hour?

Linus: Nope.

One of those ‘once in a blue moon, twilight-zone-type, occurrences,’ is my conclusion. Until it happens the next week. Linus calls. I go in. Linus says, go home. Then it happens again. Linus is losing patience. I’m wondering why the heck Linus is doing this to me.

Until one night following our shift, I’m walking out with my friend and he says, “Want to hear my Linus voice imitation?”

(Sadly, Pat passed away since I wrote this ditty. I’m truly thankful to have been able to call Pat my friend. And it’s wonderful that he left us with so many memories.)