Once upon a spring in the late 1980's, my sister and I dug our bicycles out from the shed and decided to embark on a journey. We were going to venture a little further than we normally would to get some candy and whatever else my sister was into by that age, like blank cassette tapes or White Rain hairspray. So we pedal our way out to Fay’s, an old chain drug store that exists now merely through its faded company logo on sides of some brick buildings in upstate New York. This particular Fay’s would carry some more notoriety many moons later, but for now it was just a bastion of junk food and baseball cards and cheap hairspray, among many things. We sandwiched our bikes around a parking lot pole, locked them together with a plastic-coated wire chain and padlock, and went inside.
This Fay's sat to the right of a small Price Chopper plaza, our local grocery store. A couple smaller stores were to the left of Price Chopper, a sub shop and some jewelry place. As a family we hardly ever ventured into Fay's, our parents preferring another pharmacy a short drive down the street. But I had learned from friends of the delicious Fay's candy aisle, and was determined to check it out.
The aisle flow of this Fay’s encouraged shoppers down the hair care and toiletries section first. My sister stayed in this aisle for a little while, as I took a look over to my childhood obsession: baseball cards and other sporty-type things. An older cousin was big on collecting New York Mets player cards, and since I wanted to do everything he did, I started buying cards myself, not caring so much about which team. With Chris off in hair care land, I was left to my own amusement to pass time. The toy and baseball card aisle was empty, save myself. There were a million packaged goods at perfect eye level. Almost on instinct, I started at the bottom, working my way up the pegboard of toys, focusing on packaged action figures first. One by one, I opened up a dozen of these action figure packs and left whatever came out of them on the bottom shelf, leaving the now empty and opened packages hanging on the pegs. Upon hearing footsteps working their way closer to the aisle, I quickly moved over to a part of the aisle that I wasn’t destroying. The shopper took a glance over to the damage but didn’t say anything, nor looked at me in any sort of contempt. She smiled at me a little, but kept right on walking over to the pharmacy. I made sure she and everyone else was out of sight for a few more minutes while I opened up a few more packages. I ripped open some baseball cards, letting those drop to the floor. By now I suspected my sister would be looking for me, so I made a sly break for it to another part of the store. I was now at the very back, over by the pharmacy. I opened a pill bottle – just enough to break the safety seal, then placed it back. Chris finds me here, but doesn’t notice my shenanigans. She is finished with her shopping, and told me to pick out something quick so we can leave. Back down the toy aisle, I grab some baseball cards – unopened, of course. Chris commented at the damage, but I tuned it out.
While walking toward the checkout line, I decided that I, too, wanted some hair care products. Or at least that’s what I told my sister while she was checking out magazines. Over in the hair care aisle, there sat a table full of clearance items. My target here became a bottle of discounted mousse. I look around, make sure the coast is clear, and proceed to slather up the clearance table product in a sheen of white, lightly-scented foam. I put the bottle right back where I found it with the cap off, and meet my sister in the checkout line. Chris is in the process of bagging up her things when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Behind me stood a man, built like a tractor and sporting a moustache. He tells me to come with him, and like any child with a stranger, I follow right along. He brings me back to the toy aisle, shoves an empty cardboard box into my hands, and tells me to clean it up. My heart is racing, but I do as I'm instructed as fast as possible. He then tells me to follow him over to the hair care aisle, where an older, thinner man with a black tie and nametag is waiting with a roll of paper towels. He hands them to me, and tells me to start cleaning up the mess I made. I'm shaking by now, nervous and embarrassed. The guy who tapped me on the shoulder takes the box and leaves, but the other one stands there and watches me, arms crossed. He’s mumbling things about watching me ever since I walked into the store, how they caught me, and blah, blah, blah. I was almost numb to the words as I continued to clean. After a few short moments he tells me to take the mousse can I used and to pay for it, and I do so with my head hanging low. Chris is beside herself, having seen me in the hair care section cleaning. She’s confused, and keeps asking what is going on, but I do not reply. I buy the mousse, the cashier keeps the change in the drawer, then she and the older fellow escort us outside. We are both told to never come back. Chris continues to inquire about what happened, but I am still too petrified and nervous to answer. We unchain our bikes from the pole, where I quickly hop on mine and pedal off, completely in the opposite direction of our home. Standing next to her bike, she yells where am I going. I don't answer.
******
Almost a decade later, I was very briefly employed at this same Fay's store. On the day I decided I had enough with it, I round up displaced shopping carts in the parking lot, push them down the hill toward the store, hopped in my car and left.
This Fay's sat to the right of a small Price Chopper plaza, our local grocery store. A couple smaller stores were to the left of Price Chopper, a sub shop and some jewelry place. As a family we hardly ever ventured into Fay's, our parents preferring another pharmacy a short drive down the street. But I had learned from friends of the delicious Fay's candy aisle, and was determined to check it out.
The aisle flow of this Fay’s encouraged shoppers down the hair care and toiletries section first. My sister stayed in this aisle for a little while, as I took a look over to my childhood obsession: baseball cards and other sporty-type things. An older cousin was big on collecting New York Mets player cards, and since I wanted to do everything he did, I started buying cards myself, not caring so much about which team. With Chris off in hair care land, I was left to my own amusement to pass time. The toy and baseball card aisle was empty, save myself. There were a million packaged goods at perfect eye level. Almost on instinct, I started at the bottom, working my way up the pegboard of toys, focusing on packaged action figures first. One by one, I opened up a dozen of these action figure packs and left whatever came out of them on the bottom shelf, leaving the now empty and opened packages hanging on the pegs. Upon hearing footsteps working their way closer to the aisle, I quickly moved over to a part of the aisle that I wasn’t destroying. The shopper took a glance over to the damage but didn’t say anything, nor looked at me in any sort of contempt. She smiled at me a little, but kept right on walking over to the pharmacy. I made sure she and everyone else was out of sight for a few more minutes while I opened up a few more packages. I ripped open some baseball cards, letting those drop to the floor. By now I suspected my sister would be looking for me, so I made a sly break for it to another part of the store. I was now at the very back, over by the pharmacy. I opened a pill bottle – just enough to break the safety seal, then placed it back. Chris finds me here, but doesn’t notice my shenanigans. She is finished with her shopping, and told me to pick out something quick so we can leave. Back down the toy aisle, I grab some baseball cards – unopened, of course. Chris commented at the damage, but I tuned it out.
While walking toward the checkout line, I decided that I, too, wanted some hair care products. Or at least that’s what I told my sister while she was checking out magazines. Over in the hair care aisle, there sat a table full of clearance items. My target here became a bottle of discounted mousse. I look around, make sure the coast is clear, and proceed to slather up the clearance table product in a sheen of white, lightly-scented foam. I put the bottle right back where I found it with the cap off, and meet my sister in the checkout line. Chris is in the process of bagging up her things when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Behind me stood a man, built like a tractor and sporting a moustache. He tells me to come with him, and like any child with a stranger, I follow right along. He brings me back to the toy aisle, shoves an empty cardboard box into my hands, and tells me to clean it up. My heart is racing, but I do as I'm instructed as fast as possible. He then tells me to follow him over to the hair care aisle, where an older, thinner man with a black tie and nametag is waiting with a roll of paper towels. He hands them to me, and tells me to start cleaning up the mess I made. I'm shaking by now, nervous and embarrassed. The guy who tapped me on the shoulder takes the box and leaves, but the other one stands there and watches me, arms crossed. He’s mumbling things about watching me ever since I walked into the store, how they caught me, and blah, blah, blah. I was almost numb to the words as I continued to clean. After a few short moments he tells me to take the mousse can I used and to pay for it, and I do so with my head hanging low. Chris is beside herself, having seen me in the hair care section cleaning. She’s confused, and keeps asking what is going on, but I do not reply. I buy the mousse, the cashier keeps the change in the drawer, then she and the older fellow escort us outside. We are both told to never come back. Chris continues to inquire about what happened, but I am still too petrified and nervous to answer. We unchain our bikes from the pole, where I quickly hop on mine and pedal off, completely in the opposite direction of our home. Standing next to her bike, she yells where am I going. I don't answer.
******
Almost a decade later, I was very briefly employed at this same Fay's store. On the day I decided I had enough with it, I round up displaced shopping carts in the parking lot, push them down the hill toward the store, hopped in my car and left.