Fresh Rack
A man, a job, and a secret
James found himself sitting alone in his car at around 8:30 each night, wet from a mixture of his own sweat and the sprinklers on the fresh rack — the place in the tiny store where the vegetables were displayed. He’d light up a White Owl Sweet and roll down the window. The faux leather interior (red) was slightly worn, but well-maintained. James tended to the car himself. He’d learned all he knew about auto maintenance in college. Now, at 51, he drove a red Mercury Monarch.
Because he was the manager of the Produce Department, he worked every single day. There just wasn’t enough reliable help. But he didn’t come in too early, and he left by 8 or so each evening. This gave him time for a few drinks or a date and it let him get decent sleep.
He didn’t make much money running the fruits and vegetables at an independent grocery, but it was enough to maintain his Monarch and buy some White Owls and pay the rent on the 1500 square foot, two-story brick house about five miles from work.
The fresh rack, that’s what he did himself. Keeping the lettuces clean and fresh-looking. Sticking his hand in ice, emptying boxes of kale and collards. He let the kids do the fruit. Usually, it didn’t take too much training to get them to get the fruit just right. But they didn’t stay long and they couldn’t be trusted to get…
