It was 99-cent day at the thrift store.
I walked in and froze in the aisle somewhere between a
dozen or so heavy televisions left over from the '90s and the front counter,
where a 20-something brunette – "Aubrey" scrawled
on her plastic nametag – was sorting books.
“Have you shopped in thrift
before?” asked Aubrey.
“Not like this,” I said, looking around the massive building.
“All non-clothing items that
don’t have a blue tag are 99 cents
today,” she explained. “We’re trying to get rid of things
that have been around for awhile.”
(Interesting.)
She smiled. “Are you looking for something in particular?”
(Well, since you asked …)
“I’m looking for something slightly used (um, experienced) that has some life left in it. I've got no
problem with recycled or rough-around-the-edges. Age is not an issue. Money is
not an issue. But I'm not ready for sitting on the porch swing, and I'm done
changing diapers, you know what I mean?"
I winked at her.
Silence.
(Why do so many people look at
me like that?!)
She had stopped sorting books, and her right hand was
tugging at the front of her red apron nervously. “I
think you’ll find a lot of interesting
things in here," she said finally, avoiding my eyes.
I laughed, trying to put her at ease.
"Actually, I'm looking for a shovel," I said.
(Suffice it to say that I've
got some cleaning up to do.)
She smiled again and pointed to the far southwest corner of
the store. "You might try back there," she said. "A lot of the
outdoor stuff is kept in the back."
So, easily distracted as usual, I waded through other
people’s emotional leftovers all the
way to the back. Champagne flutes that looked barely used. Many elaborate (and
mostly gaudy) candleholders taken out of wedding and holiday centerpieces. A
package of white Save The Date cards. (I
have entered an alternate universe!)
Long rows of stuffed animals, beaded bracelets, worn-out
shoes, exercise equipment, balls, spatulas, staplers, radios, holiday
placemats, computer keyboards, framed copies of Footprints of Jesus, stereo
speakers. Chargers for who-knows-what, extension cords, wicker baskets, board
games, lamp shades, scorched irons, cameras, best-seller books ("Dr.
Atkins’ Diet Revolution,"
"Men are from Mars; Women are from Venus," "Jim Fixx: Book of
Running"), ceramic clowns.
The evidence of a change in status clung to the hangers.
Rows of brightly colored T-shirts, mostly in the men's section, proclaimed:
Awana Leader, VBS staff, Upward Coach, World's Best Dad!, Stupid. I'm With Stupid was in the women's section. ;)
I was sifting through the men's T-shirts when I
unintentionally made eye contact with a tall, gray-haired man wearing a purple
LSU T-shirt and Levi’s.
(Automatic deduction for the
T-shirt but points for not wearing jeans with bling on the back pockets.)
“Are you looking for what I’m looking for?” he asked with a wide smile.
“Only if you’re looking for shirts for my son,” I replied.
“I’m new to thrift,” he said, walking toward me. “Can you help me find the men's jeans?"
(Uh oh. Keep in mind that the
selection in thrift varies greatly and changes daily.)
"Actually, I have very little experience. You might
check with Aubrey,” I said, nodding toward the
front counter.
I grabbed two red T-shirts and moved quickly four rows over
to the kitchen section, where several deep shelves were devoted to novelty
coffee mugs whose clever messages had expired: "Just Wed!" • "50! How'd That Happen?" • "Single and Lovin' It!" • "Jesus was a Vegan!" • "You Had Me at Bacon-Wrapped" • "Bring Back the Fanny Pack."
When I returned to the front
counter, my shopping cart of treasures included: a small garden spade, a
package of snowmen Christmas cards, three clear flower vases, two T-shirts, and
an unusual-looking kitchen utensil.
"Did you find what you were
looking for?" Aubrey asked.
"Not exactly. But it’s OK,” I said, holding up the spade.
“I’ll keep digging.”
Laughed out loud at the "stupid" t-shirt comment--"I'm with stupid" is in the women's department. Too funny.
ReplyDeleteI can't shop at places like that. I'd rather not have "it," whatever "it" is, than sift through that stuff. I'm a lazy shopper. Need a shovel? Go to Lowe's. Not cheap, but easy. (Like some girls I used to know in high school.)
Oh the metaphors.
ReplyDeleteLove the detail. But the Punctuation Police found an exclamation mark!
I love it and it made me want to go shopping with you, but only for shovels.
ReplyDelete-Tamra