I set down my gallon of milk at the grocery checkout counter. The clerk with the nametag "Chris" asked in a somber tone if I had my Preferred Card.
"How ya doin'?'" I asked as I handed her my card.
"Terrible. I hate this job, this store, this management. I'm going to get out of here as soon as I can."
"How much longer?"
"As soon as I can pay some bills and get out. Such a waste--a college dregree and I am doing this."
"What did you graduate in?"
"Statics and Management. This is dull, dull, dull."
"You must make a difference somehow..."
"No, nothing, I can't make a difference, I don't make a difference."
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A few days later I heard on the radio that the grocery clerks were voting on whether to go out on strike. Maybe Chris is usually just a cheerful checkout clerk.
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