Posts Tagged ‘walgreens’

Damn.

You know, I’m generally pretty upbeat about the future of the city, but every so often I run into something that makes me wonder, like this gem, while I was checking out at the Rite Aid this morning:

Cashier1: My Mama was yellin’ at me all week, telling me how I gotta study and work so I can pass, but I just kept gettin’ more upset and cryin. I told her it don’t matter how much I study, ’cause when I get into the room, I just forget it all. Right after the test, I remember everything, but that don’t matter, do it?

Cashier2: Yeah, I had that problem, too, but it mainly went away during my last year, but it’s stress, ya know? That’s what messes you up.

Cashier1: I know it! But mama don’t care, she wants me to try anyway. I’m tired of trying and not never getting nowhere. I just want it to be over with.

Cashier2 (nodding emphatically): See, that’s why I was so happy when I came up pregnant with my son in 12th grade. It was so much pressure offa me- no more stressin! No more bein’ worried about no tests or walkin’ at graduation.

It left me so depressed I just wanted to sit down and cry; instead I wrote up the exchange in the car, getting it pretty close to verbatim.

Let’s see. We have one girl who’s likely got some sort of test-taking phobia, who actually has a mother who cares about her education, but a school with no resources to help her out.

And another girl who…I just don’t even know what to say. How many new mothers do you know? How many of them consider it all a stress free experience? Not to mention that it all happened just when she said her own school problems had eased up.

When graduating seems like more of a bother than raising a child, does it say more about the quality of her parenting, or of a school system that let her down?

Had to drop the car off for service (it hasn’t been the same since the accident) and stopped at Walgreens before schlepping the long long drive down Airline to the nearest Mitsi dealer.

The cashier looked sadly down at my purchases.

“A water.” Pause

“And a Hubig’s.*” Pause.

“For breakfast,” she added, looking at me reproachfully.

“Yeah, I know,” I said, moderately abashed. “My mother woudn’t approve, but some days that’s how it goes.”

“No mama would ever approve, hon,” she said, scowling to indicate she thought I could’ve found something nutritious had I chosen to apply myself.

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*Hubigs pies are the local example of the fried, sugar frosted fruit pie. They are unmitigated evil. And the lemon ones are to die for.