I have inadvertently celebrated Valentines Day today. I know, I’m confused, too. I assure you it’s through no fault of my own. The sweet girl at the bank gave me a cute little heart sticker on my deposit slip! Who does that? It very nearly made my day! I mean, unless you’re a kid or a dog, the bank treats dry up around the time you get a zit. So I was very proud of my sticker.

The next treachery was at the grocery store. I can’t pass up the bakery without seeing what delectable cakes they’re peddling. Today my downfall was the cookie cake. But you tell me: would you have been able to pass it up? The dang thing was asking for me!!

Something was said to me today at the grocery store and I’m really trying hard not to dwell on it. 

So this lady ahead of me in line was leaving and telling everybody bye. You could just tell she was the real sweet type. I smiled at the lady bagging my groceries and remarked that it was nice to have regulars. I remember my Grandmother would often wait for a specific cashier. Of course in those days, grocery employees were union and it was a career job, not just something to land on waiting for your next gig. 

The woman agreed with me and y’all know how bashful I am, I told her I once had my share of regulars, that I worked at the Co-op for 13 years, and most of the good ‘uns I waited on at least once a week. “You see their kids grow up, their dog die, ya know?” She nodded agreement. “So, did you retire from there…or quit??”

I stood there paralyzed. RETIRE?!?! HOW OLD DO I LOOK???!!? Then I thought maybe she misheard me, maybe she thought I said thirty and not thirteen. But still. Sheesh.

I’m still not sure what to make of that. She said she’d been a nurse at UT and couldn’t hack it after she blessed a fellow nurse after she sneezed and the woman looked at her like she could run her over with a truck. And they didn’t like being told “good morning”, either. Yeah, I’d be back with the sweet grannies at the grocery store, too.

Speaking of Co-op, this spring weather has sent me reeling back in time, as it often does. Last night I dreamed I was back on the counter and this woman called twice within four hours wanting to know if we had our bean seeds out yet.

This is the kind of thing we dealt with. I guarantee they got calls on mater plants today. And if they had any, I bet they sold some. I always said it was fine, I’d sell them to you three times by the time it was time to set them out 😁

Sometimes I miss being in the mix of things and seeing everybody. Most of the time I’m glad I’m not under constant pressure and being harangued by every Tom, Dick, and Harry about herbicides, where Gary is, can we bring tile to Wears Valley before noon, and did the special Orchardgrass blend come in. Oh, and Tuletta yelling at me about the dust on my fly mask boxes.

Ah, the good ol’ days.

I know I’m not fooling y’all, I do miss being needed. But my brain would be so tired from switching gears all day. I remember once when I was new I was working the back counter. This guy walked up and asked if we had any cross ties. I was smack in the middle of a Weaver order, my mind immersed in all things horse, and I led him over to the adjustable nylon ones with quick release snaps. He’s looking at me a little askance, so I tell him that at my house I just use chains, and we can cut it to length and modify with any hardware he chose.

Then he tells me he’s looking for landscaping cross ties. You know, the kind from the railroad tracks that people use as flowerbed borders. People used to ask us what grade ours were. Instead of making something up, I’d tell them to just go look. I’ve never understood buying something sight unseen, anyway. Gary would tell them, “Well, if they were any count, the railroad would still be usin’ ‘em.” Fair enough.

And we won’t talk about being in the heat of spring, asshole deep in alligators, selling fertilizer and amendments by the ton and herbicides by the pallet. When this guy walks up and asks if we sell deck stain. In my mind, it automatically corrected to Dextane, a chemical I wasn’t familiar with, but that didn’t necessarily mean squat. I think I first told him to check automotive, because it definitely sounded like an automotive product. Like hydraulic fluid. He looks at me quizzically and I cocked my head and ask, “What’s it used for?”

I’m sure he felt like he was dealing with an absolute Rhodes scholar when he said, “to protect a wood deck from rotting.”

And that’s when it dawned on me. Not Dextane. Deck stain. 🤦🏼‍♀️

But I can’t fault the Co-op. For without them, I probably wouldn’t know you. And without you, I wouldn’t be me. I’m glad I’m where I am, but the only reason I’m here is because of thirteen years spent there.

Thirteen that aged me like thirty, it appears.

Love and sweethearts from Appalachia,

~Amy