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Thursday, June 19, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Basement Files: Summer job

Every year, we ask the city's top high school students to keep a journal of their summer jobs. Periodically throughout the summer, we hope to share with you the experiences, the hopes and the dreams of tomorrow's leaders. Today's entry is from 17-year-old Chris Taggert, a junior-to-be at Sierra Vista High School.

Summer Job

My name is Chris Taggert and I'm a cashier at SavOn. I actually started back in April in the photo lab, but I got caught making duplicate pictures of this chick's bachelorette party and got put on probation. To be honest, it's the best thing that ever happened to me. Because when you work the register, you learn a lot about people. And you learn a lot about yourself.

8:14 p.m.

Old guy

Fleet's enema kit

Look at this poor bastard in the rumpled shirt and loosened tie. Maybe 50 years old, works 12 hours a day to provide for a wife and two kids who can't stand the sight of him. He's been shitting blood for a week and finally went to see the doctor. Now he's got some kind of humiliating butt-scope scheduled for tomorrow morning and he's got to get the poop chute camera ready. You can see in his sagging shoulders that he's already expecting bad news. "Now, Dale, these are probably just polyps, but let's get you scheduled for a biopsy just to make sure." But Dale's resigned to something worse than death. It's that his wife will actually be sweet and attentive to him during the chemo and, weak bastard that he is, he'll accept her kindness. And that's just killing him by degrees. I feel bad for him. I'll get this in a sack pretty fast.

8:47 p.m.

Hot chick

Encare contraceptive suppositories

Now this is odd. There's no way a chick this hot and nasty still relies on these crappy melting wax bullets. My guess is she's on the pill, but she's having to take antibiotics for some kind of slamhound-related infection. So she's using these cooter cartridges as backup. What a gamer. This chick's hurting, but she still won't make her dude wear a jimmy hat. We definitely need to hook up. I think about asking for a price check and treating her to two solid minutes of Chris Taggert's brooding bedroom eyes. But that's for amateurs. Instead, I scan the box and say, all casual, "I never really liked these things...they start to burn after 30 or 40 minutes." There, I'll just let that hang in the air for a second or two. Let it slowly dawn on her that Chris Taggert brings the wood for a solid sixty minutes. Oh yeah, she heard me.

9:08 p.m.

Mid-30s guy

Immodium A.D.

Look, everyone gets 'rhea, but you don't have to throw the pack down on the counter all angry and shit. I'm not the one with panty pudding, so I wouldn't be pissing me off, my friend. But you have now and because you've been an official asshole, now we have to enter the Chris Taggert bowel-testing wait loop of endurance. Whoops, looks like I'm gonna have to change the register tape. This could take a second. It's getting the tape under this second retaining bar that always kills me. It's like it gets jammed or something. Hang on, I think I'm gonna have to call my manager.

9:23 p.m.

Chunky teen girl

EPT home pregnancy kit

Well, this is heartbreaking. This chubby little thing, her eyes puffy from crying. This is gonna be one long wait in the bathroom. Worse, she's brought her fatter, sexless friend along for "support." The friend is actually stroking her back while she writes out the check. Jesus, there's stuff I just shouldn't have to see. And stuff I shouldn't have to think about. 'Cause I feel bad for the dude too. In about two weeks, he's either gonna be on his way toward resentful fatherhood or he's gonna have the word "asshole" spray-painted on his Camaro. I've been down this road before. Chris Taggert's gotten more "I'm late" calls than a FedEx dispatcher.

3:47 a.m.

Housewife

Vagisil cream

Simple rule of thumb for all itchy, yeasty hooch unguents. If she's a hottie, I'm the soul of discretion. In fact, if she pays with a check, I'll definitely scope the phone number. But if she's heinous, we're going full price check."Yeah, I need a price check on VAGISIL MAXIMUM STRENGTH...uhhh...VAGINAL... OINTMENT...CREAM...STUFF. A little wink from the Tagg-Man and well just settle into the uncomfortable silence.

10:19 p.m.

Old fart

Preparation H

'Rhoids, huh? Bummer. If it's a pregnant chick, I'll get it scanned and in the sack in one smooth move. I'm all feminist and shit about that. But if it's some old asshole, I like to pull one of these deals... "Hang on, I think this is on sale," I say, as I flip madly through the advertising circular. You know, making a big show of saving this guy a few pennies on butt balm while the line behind him gets longer and longer. "Oh, that's okay," they always say, "if you could just scan it." You'd like that, wouldn't you? Well, I'm sorry, but Chris Taggert is just getting warmed up. "No, I definitely remember seeing a coupon for this hemorrhoid stuff...hang on...I know it's in here. No sense paying extra." Their head swivels harder toward the cash register to forestall any peripheral eye contact and you can almost hear them counting off the elapsing seconds. Depending on their discomfort, I can keep this going for a solid minute. And then the payoff. "Okay, here it...oh, I'm sorry...this is for Tuck's Medicated Pads...my bad." It's all about the power.