The Stocking Suffers

Working in retail certainly has its ups and downs. One of the bright sides is having an unusual, flexible schedule that sometimes makes things easier, like being able to go to a less crowded beach during the week or not having to request time off for doctor's appointments or your children's school functions.  That schedule becomes more daunting during the holidays. Even though our team has been planning and working for months towards our goal of selling everything by December 24th, Christmas still snuck up on me. Working fourteen of the fifteen days preceding Christmas tends to make them blend together.  You sometimes lose track of what day it is. And that is how your kid almost gets a Gas Station Christmas.

I am exaggerating a bit, of course.  Though it took more last minute shopping than usual, we had purchased Grace's gifts by Christmas Eve.  As we were wrapping them around 10pm we realized, however, that we had nothing for her stocking.  This was a problem for two reasons. We like to fill Grace's stocking with small treats because we don't go crazy with Christmas presents.  She gets a handful of gifts from Santa and a handful of gifts from Mom and Dad - we never have the tree that looks like it has barfed up presents everywhere. Also, we always pretend the stocking is filled by Santa. An empty stocking would indicate an insufficient Santa delivery and lead to questions I don't feel like answering at 7am Christmas morning.

With even Walmart closed, the lack of proper planning led to a late night run to the only place open.  As this elf plodded slowly through the gas station hoping for a miracle, it quickly became apparent that this might be the first time Santa had filled a stocking with Slim Jims, off brand motor oil and a tin of Skoal Bandit.  Throw in a Penthouse and you might have a redneck's dream stocking, but I was shopping for a seven-year-old girl.  I settled for a toothbrush (pink, at least), lip balm, and candy, lots of candy.

After leaving the gas station dissapointed, but not surprised, I drove a different route towards home.  A route that delivered the blessing of a Walgreen's that was still open.  Against my better judgement, I went in Walgreen's, which to my surprise was open until midnight (midnight!),  and became what I despise.  Despite there being many other shoppers in the store at 11pm,  I could feel the clerk's white hot glare.  Here I was, his brother in retail, irresponsibly making his life miserable as I swept through my last minute shopping.  I could hear the things he was mentally shouting at me because I had been mentally shouting them at customers mere hours earlier.

I have to be here.  Why are you here? Have you no family?  Have you no soul?  I just want to peacefully wile away this last hour until I can go home to MY family. WHYYYY ARE YOU HERE?!?

I kept my head down, picked up a few things more Christmas-y than Marlboro Reds, including some Disney pet that was actually on Grace's Santa list, and headed home.  For I had much more to do.  There was wrapping to finish, eating Santa's cookies (not such a chore, I suppose), putting away the Katie the Elf (I did better than last year), and sweeping up the reindeer food from the sidewalk.   My neighbor, catching a smoke on his porch, must have thought I was nuts to be sweeping my sidewalks at midnight, but never made eye contact or said a word.  Yes, the ever-expanding illusion of Christmas is getting harder to keep up. The man behind the curtain is getting tired.  I can't say I will be totally dissapointed when Grace discovers the truth.  I will be a little sad, but at least I can spend the wee hours of Christmas Eve at Midnight Mass not combing gas station shelves for "gifts".