I Let a Kid Wait in My Store After Closing At 8PM, the…
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I Let a Kid Wait in My Store After Closing
At 8PM, the automatic doors slid open, and a kid with a snotty nose wandered into the pharmacy alone. It was a Thursday, which meant late night shopping. The store wouldn’t close for another hour. I didn’t find it too strange. My mum had been an avid smoker and would burn through two or three cigarettes while I ran off and explored.
I was stocking bottles of Blackmore vitamins in the lifestyle aisle, and his presence caught me off guard. To tell the truth, vitamin prices were getting insane, and I’d taken to swiping a bottle or two, then fudging the sheets. The kid just stared at me and after a stretch of silence, trying to determine whether or not he understood what he saw, he simply said,
“Hello.”
“Uh, hi.” I replied
“What are you doing?”
He seemed like a polite kid, so I explained what vitamins were and why our bodies needed them. He stuck by my side while I refilled the shelves, and after a while I started handing him a few containers. Kids jump at the chance to feel useful.
“Mind putting this down the bottom there?”
He read the label. “Does fish oil taste like fish fingers?”
"Not at all. Want to try?" I asked, jokingly. I wouldn't actually give a kid medication he wasn't meant to have, even if it were harmless.
"I can't swallow tablets," he said, turning red.
At 9PM, the only sound was the hum of fluorescent lights. Everybody had left–gone home to their families. Everyone, except the kid. He still followed me up and down the aisle, asking questions. I had work to do–needed to lock the doors. But I couldn’t just send him outside in the dark.
"Where are your parents?" I asked. It had been a full hour by now.
"Bargo."
I’ve lived here for seven years, and I hadn't heard of a town called Bargo.
"Where's that?"
"Virginia."
That was two states over.
"Kid, who are you here with?"
“Dave. He’s my uncle?”
“Yeah. That’s what you call your mum or dad’s brother,” I said. "Is he here? Is he parked somewhere nearby?"
The kid shook his head. By this point, I was a little frustrated with him. He looked about 6 years old–maybe as old as 8.
"Does Dave have a number?"
"I'm not supposed to use the phones."
I sighed, knowing what I’d have to do next. If no one showed up by 9:30PM, I’d have to contact the police. Wait for them to show up–and how long would that be? Nights are busier for cops. That’s when people stumbled home from the bar and got into trouble.
After about 20 more minutes, a portly, mid-forties man in a red sweater pulled up to the store window and was looking inside.
"Callum? Callum, are you there?" he called.
I went to the front and unlocked the door, Callum in tow.
The man gripped my hand. "Thank god for you, sir. I almost had a heart attack. His parents would kill me if they knew where he was."
"He's a good kid, I'm glad I could help." I said, and I had enjoyed my time with Callum. He reminded me of myself when I was a kid, but softer in his curiosity.
The man put his arm around Callum's neck and yanked him into a hug. "He's a little nervous when he thinks he’s low on his prescription meds. I keep telling him we still have a whole sleeve of tablets left at home."
Callum and his uncle left together in his car. The man had seemed so kind, but as he opened the door for Callum he smacked the back of his head.
It wasn't until I was twisting the key in the padlock, closing down the store, that the thought occurred to me. Callum couldn't swallow tablets.
#entertainment
source
At 8PM, the automatic doors slid open, and a kid with a snotty nose wandered into the pharmacy alone. It was a Thursday, which meant late night shopping. The store wouldn’t close for another hour. I didn’t find it too strange. My mum had been an avid smoker and would burn through two or three cigarettes while I ran off and explored.
I was stocking bottles of Blackmore vitamins in the lifestyle aisle, and his presence caught me off guard. To tell the truth, vitamin prices were getting insane, and I’d taken to swiping a bottle or two, then fudging the sheets. The kid just stared at me and after a stretch of silence, trying to determine whether or not he understood what he saw, he simply said,
“Hello.”
“Uh, hi.” I replied
“What are you doing?”
He seemed like a polite kid, so I explained what vitamins were and why our bodies needed them. He stuck by my side while I refilled the shelves, and after a while I started handing him a few containers. Kids jump at the chance to feel useful.
“Mind putting this down the bottom there?”
He read the label. “Does fish oil taste like fish fingers?”
"Not at all. Want to try?" I asked, jokingly. I wouldn't actually give a kid medication he wasn't meant to have, even if it were harmless.
"I can't swallow tablets," he said, turning red.
At 9PM, the only sound was the hum of fluorescent lights. Everybody had left–gone home to their families. Everyone, except the kid. He still followed me up and down the aisle, asking questions. I had work to do–needed to lock the doors. But I couldn’t just send him outside in the dark.
"Where are your parents?" I asked. It had been a full hour by now.
"Bargo."
I’ve lived here for seven years, and I hadn't heard of a town called Bargo.
"Where's that?"
"Virginia."
That was two states over.
"Kid, who are you here with?"
“Dave. He’s my uncle?”
“Yeah. That’s what you call your mum or dad’s brother,” I said. "Is he here? Is he parked somewhere nearby?"
The kid shook his head. By this point, I was a little frustrated with him. He looked about 6 years old–maybe as old as 8.
"Does Dave have a number?"
"I'm not supposed to use the phones."
I sighed, knowing what I’d have to do next. If no one showed up by 9:30PM, I’d have to contact the police. Wait for them to show up–and how long would that be? Nights are busier for cops. That’s when people stumbled home from the bar and got into trouble.
After about 20 more minutes, a portly, mid-forties man in a red sweater pulled up to the store window and was looking inside.
"Callum? Callum, are you there?" he called.
I went to the front and unlocked the door, Callum in tow.
The man gripped my hand. "Thank god for you, sir. I almost had a heart attack. His parents would kill me if they knew where he was."
"He's a good kid, I'm glad I could help." I said, and I had enjoyed my time with Callum. He reminded me of myself when I was a kid, but softer in his curiosity.
The man put his arm around Callum's neck and yanked him into a hug. "He's a little nervous when he thinks he’s low on his prescription meds. I keep telling him we still have a whole sleeve of tablets left at home."
Callum and his uncle left together in his car. The man had seemed so kind, but as he opened the door for Callum he smacked the back of his head.
It wasn't until I was twisting the key in the padlock, closing down the store, that the thought occurred to me. Callum couldn't swallow tablets.
#entertainment
source
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