Do you remember the olden days when everything was closed on Christmas Day?
It's hard to believe it now but there was a time when stores didn't have signs posted at their entrances proclaiming, "Open till 9 pm Christmas Day". In those days, if you forgot to buy maple syrup to glaze your ham, well, you'd better try to make a coating from brown sugar and nutmeg because every single store was closed. There was no such thing as getting up on Christmas morning to run to the store for another can of pineapple. No visiting the cigarette counter to grab another pack of smokes when you accidentally ran out.
In fact, I remember my parents freaking out one year when they ran out of cigarettes on Christmas Day. Everything was closed so there was nowhere to purchase another pack of Benson & Hedges. They had us kids scouring every single ashtray and waste basket, including the one in the car, looking for butts with some sliver of smokability remaining.
In fact, I remember my parents freaking out one year when they ran out of cigarettes on Christmas Day. Everything was closed so there was nowhere to purchase another pack of Benson & Hedges. They had us kids scouring every single ashtray and waste basket, including the one in the car, looking for butts with some sliver of smokability remaining.
Every Christmas Eve seemed to find me and my father in the local Kroger with my mother's list of last minute requests, written in her painstakingly neat calligraphy. The store would be packed with other last-minute shoppers, eagerly snatching the last package of whole wheat dinner rolls off the shelf just as my father began to extend his hand for it. My dad would agonize over whether to go home with the white dinner rolls or nothing at all. This was before cell phones so he couldn't exactly call my mom and ask her which she'd prefer. Times have certainly changed. Today I headed down to our local Vons grocery at a little past noon. I didn't even bother to call first to see if they were open. Once there, I slowly strolled the aisles with dozens of other shoppers. I added a bag of baby carrots, luminously red tomatoes and other salad stuff to my cart. In the checkout lane, I picked up a copy of Us Weekly. After buying these things and stashing them in the trunk of my car, I headed back inside to stand in the long line at the Starbucks counter.
I waited behind a woman who was wearing what must have been her special holiday outfit: a red jersey mini dress, cinched at the waist with a wide black leather belt. Her legs were sheathed in an unfortunate pair of black spandex leggings that ended just shy of her ankles. Rhinestone bows trailed up the back of the leggings, disappearing from view as the red dress covered them at mid-thigh. Her shoes were black, open-toed, patent leather heels, the kind of heels I describe as stripper heels. The conservatively dressed man standing by her side murmured to her, "You can't wear this to my mother's house." She ignored him studiously as she ordered her drink. I'll bet there was drama at that Christmas supper, don't you think?
I waited behind a woman who was wearing what must have been her special holiday outfit: a red jersey mini dress, cinched at the waist with a wide black leather belt. Her legs were sheathed in an unfortunate pair of black spandex leggings that ended just shy of her ankles. Rhinestone bows trailed up the back of the leggings, disappearing from view as the red dress covered them at mid-thigh. Her shoes were black, open-toed, patent leather heels, the kind of heels I describe as stripper heels. The conservatively dressed man standing by her side murmured to her, "You can't wear this to my mother's house." She ignored him studiously as she ordered her drink. I'll bet there was drama at that Christmas supper, don't you think?
My appetite for observation was whetted. Once it was my turn to order, my annoying curiosity compelled me to ask the barista behind the counter the rudest question ever.
"So, I hope you get paid extra for working today?" I asked. She nodded her head yes as she rang up my grande soy chai with a shot of sugar free vanilla.
"I guess that makes being here worth it then?" I continued.
She looked up at me, tilted her head slightly to the left and twisted her lips into a slight grimace. "I guess," she said.
"Well, thank you and have a wonderful rest of your day," I replied.
She probably wanted to slap me, and rightfully so. How annoying it must have been for her to have me asking these questions. She knows I'm going to take the chai home and sip it while lounging on the couch and perusing the Us Weekly. On the other hand, she won't be going home till 9 pm.
Things seemed so much simpler when I was just an oblivious girl tagging along on Christmas Eve in search of wheat dinner rolls. Now I know, whether or not I want to admit it, that my being in that store today is participating in something awful. My luxury of a chai on Christmas Day is only possible because this woman is working a job with no health care, no paid time off, no benefits at all. That's the real reason my local grocery and yours can stay open nowadays. Stores wouldn't be able to advertise that they're open on Christmas Day if their employees weren't willing to work it. But everyone needs more money when they're only making $10 an hour, if that much.
I came home thinking about how holidays are now only a day off for those of us privileged enough to stay home. We watch "A Christmas Carol" every single year on TV and don't even realize we're living it. It shouldn't be this way.
She probably wanted to slap me, and rightfully so. How annoying it must have been for her to have me asking these questions. She knows I'm going to take the chai home and sip it while lounging on the couch and perusing the Us Weekly. On the other hand, she won't be going home till 9 pm.
Things seemed so much simpler when I was just an oblivious girl tagging along on Christmas Eve in search of wheat dinner rolls. Now I know, whether or not I want to admit it, that my being in that store today is participating in something awful. My luxury of a chai on Christmas Day is only possible because this woman is working a job with no health care, no paid time off, no benefits at all. That's the real reason my local grocery and yours can stay open nowadays. Stores wouldn't be able to advertise that they're open on Christmas Day if their employees weren't willing to work it. But everyone needs more money when they're only making $10 an hour, if that much.
I came home thinking about how holidays are now only a day off for those of us privileged enough to stay home. We watch "A Christmas Carol" every single year on TV and don't even realize we're living it. It shouldn't be this way.
