When Work Sucks

I’m in a, what I’ll call…a, “weird phase.“

Lately, when I’ve had a less than desirable day at work, I’ve taken to comparing my life to others, most frequently, those whom have been in a tragic accident, or fallen on harder times. I’ll tell myself, yes, work sucked…at least, you didn’t have your face ripped off by a crazy monkey. At least, you have all your toes and fingers. Now, those would be reasons to be really unhappy.

Today, after work, I went to get groceries. Maybe not the best choice of things to do after a trying day at work, but it’s not so bad, plus, I really like the place where I get my groceries. It’s a small market, a few blocks from my house, it doesn’t have everything, but the people who run the place are nice, and I can get fruit, and ingredients for dinner. As I fill my basket and say hello to everyone, my dinner starts coming together. Maybe some meat. I made my way over to the meat display, but there’s already someone there, so I wait…he won’t be long…

“Can you tell me how much these will be,” referring to a few pork chops. “Uhh, what about this thing, the third one, yeah…” The man helping him picks up the pork belly, slaps it on the scale, and jabs at the buttons. “How about, another pork chop.” “No, I don’t want that thing…maybe a chicken breast.” The man behind the counter places his hand in yet another plastic bag, pointing at the chicken breasts. “The one with skin.” The way he keeps changing his mind and barking orders makes him seem rude and grumpy. I’m upset at the way he’s treating the guy behind the counter. It’s obvious by now that he’s bargain hunting. The one with skin is a dollar less than the skinless.

I set my basket down, and having nothing better to do, I inspect the man, as he comes closer to a decision. He’s wearing a red tiki shirt. His red swim trunks have been sewn together at the seam, but there’s still a hole. And on his feet, where shoes should be, are black booties, like the ones you’d get if you needed a cast. They’re on both feet, and the only toes I see are the big ones jetting from underneath the boot. I don’t know much about this man, but according to my recent, “weird phase,” I know, he’s got a reason to be grumpy. After he decides on the chicken breast, with skin, and leaves the counter, I pick up some meat, and pay for my groceries.

Turning to head home, I was still thinking of the man with missing toes, I didn’t know it at first, but as I left the store behind, I left my bad day behind as well.