While working at the grocery store, the one thing that I had come to hate was how the sun would shine right through the ceiling windows during certain parts of the day. If you were unlucky enough to get the one register at the end, the sun would blind you until it had moved past the window. This would last a good fifteen to twenty minutes.
This particular day I was (un)lucky enough to get said register. Of course the sun began to rise right during rush hour. I scanned items while squinting and fought off the oncoming migraine that came with working at this register. Finally, there was a lull in the crowd and I was able to rest my eyes for a second.
A man wearing a black-leather biker jacket came through my line soon after. He was about two twenty, maybe a little more, six foot tall, bald, with a trimmed beard. His sunglasses rested on the top of his head. This man seemed rough and tough, with a no bull attitude. I did my usual, “Hey, how are you?”
“Doing alright,” he told me as he pulled his wallet from the back of his pocket.
While I waited for him to find his money, I rubbed my eyes and sighed loudly.
“What’s wrong with you?” He asked handing over his cash.
“This sun is killing me.” I told him pointing up to the ceiling window.
I didn’t really feel like I needed to explain that anymore than I did. I was obviously wrong. I was handing him his change when I noticed he was staring at me with an odd expression.
“What?” I asked.
“The sun,” he spoke looking back up at the ceiling.
“Yeah, it’s killing my eyes—”
Before I could finish, he interrupted me with an abrupt, “You’re a vampire!”
I watched in stunned silence as this six foot tall, two hundred pound, bald, biker man slung shot himself back and forth in my line yelling ‘vampire’; all while flapping his arms like a bat and bobbing his head up and down. He then grabbed his bag full of bread and meat and left my line, I could still hear him calling out vampire to himself as he exited the store.
Why me?
This particular day I was (un)lucky enough to get said register. Of course the sun began to rise right during rush hour. I scanned items while squinting and fought off the oncoming migraine that came with working at this register. Finally, there was a lull in the crowd and I was able to rest my eyes for a second.
A man wearing a black-leather biker jacket came through my line soon after. He was about two twenty, maybe a little more, six foot tall, bald, with a trimmed beard. His sunglasses rested on the top of his head. This man seemed rough and tough, with a no bull attitude. I did my usual, “Hey, how are you?”
“Doing alright,” he told me as he pulled his wallet from the back of his pocket.
While I waited for him to find his money, I rubbed my eyes and sighed loudly.
“What’s wrong with you?” He asked handing over his cash.
“This sun is killing me.” I told him pointing up to the ceiling window.
I didn’t really feel like I needed to explain that anymore than I did. I was obviously wrong. I was handing him his change when I noticed he was staring at me with an odd expression.
“What?” I asked.
“The sun,” he spoke looking back up at the ceiling.
“Yeah, it’s killing my eyes—”
Before I could finish, he interrupted me with an abrupt, “You’re a vampire!”
I watched in stunned silence as this six foot tall, two hundred pound, bald, biker man slung shot himself back and forth in my line yelling ‘vampire’; all while flapping his arms like a bat and bobbing his head up and down. He then grabbed his bag full of bread and meat and left my line, I could still hear him calling out vampire to himself as he exited the store.
Why me?
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