As a cashier I have several hundred people who know me on a one-way first name basis. That makes me famous like a celebrity except for me, at least, there is nothing advantageous about the situation. I like every aspect of my life separated from one another. The exposure from being a cashier makes it hard to keep everything contained. I often find the lid from one container coming off and things getting mixed together.
It happens the same way every time. I will be standing there staring at my coworker at the other register. It is creepy but that is all there is to do. Stand and stare. A customer will approach and I wave them down. They ignore me and go to the other register. I hear my coworker and the customer squeal in unison because they recognize each other from highschool. All I can think about is what if that had happened to me. A few times it has.
Someone asks me if I went to Crappy Crap Elementary School. I try not to get alarmed. I remain calm and rationalize that they heard me talking about Crappy Crap one day, which is something I would never do. They went to Crappy Crap too. Denial is still easier so maybe they were in a different grade or had a different teacher. No, they had Mrs. Crabapple too. They just can not let it go. Fine. Lets just lay it all out in the open then.
It is me! The fat kid named Sam. In the mornings I use to stand in the bushes in front of the school. I stood there hunched over while holding my backpack because my fat-kid body was too round for the straps. Everyone thought I was touching myself in the bushes but that was just a clever coverstory I started myself. I needed the extra fifteen minutes in the morning before school to compose myself so I would not burst into tears. It was hard being a fat kid before it became trendy. The front door of the school felt like the gates of Hell.
My old classmate gets offended that I do not remember him. He helpfully tries to remind me of things but I am getting nothing. I have actually met a few classmates from Crappy Crap but I do not remember any of them. I do not even try to remember anymore. I just pretend to rack my brain for memories then shrug and give them a rueful smile. All I actually remember are a few locations and a couple of memories from high school. My entire childhood just slid off and disappeared into an inky pool of blackness.
I was the smartest kid in the class. What the hell happened? I guess I just made some bad decisions in life. I am now even more overweight and hunched than before. How about that. I am a cashier. My classmate is an engineer. That is great. I always wanted to be one of those. He has a nice family. I have Type 2 Diabetes. He leaves reminiscing about the good old days while I check out the next customer.