Un-“Welcome to Walgreens”

I have several Walgreens nearby. I suppose even a denizen of Death Valley could say the same. I do appreciate their Geezer Tuesdays and the 10% discounts. I tend to frequent the closest option which is only six blocks away. It can be crowded however, and even though robot calls have burned the pharmacist’s meal break times into our brains, the drive-through is sometimes stacked a dozen cars deep. If I drive just a little farther in the opposite direction, there is a Walgreens that never seems to be busy. Lately, I’m beginning to wonder if that’s because of the weird customers it attracts.

The day I went to have passport photos taken, the woman ahead of me had come to pick up pictures of another sort. She was told they’d already been claimed – by her husband. Before our eyes, she morphed into the Incredible Hulk-ess.

“WHAT?” she shrieked. “Those were MY photos! You had no right to give them to anybody else!”

“Ma’am, your husband had the claim ticket.”

“I’ll just bet he did. So what? That film was left in my name. IS MY HUSBAND ME? Are you a moron?”

By the time several variations on that theme ensued, everyone within hearing distance, (in this case, the entire store), must have wondered what was in those pictures that she didn’t want her husband to see.

“Answer me, you freaking idiot. What’s wrong with you?”

The clerk remained calm and polite, to no avail. Before the woman stormed off, she yelled, “You’re a mother-f-ing (hyphen mine) bitch. You know that.”

It didn’t help that the clerk was black, and the woman white. The clerk took a deep breath and turned to me. “Will you wait here for your photos, or do you want to shop? It’ll be about five minutes.”

“I’ll wait here. I wouldn’t want to miss anything. Is it always like this?”

“More than you’d think.”

“What you must see.”

She nodded and withdrew.

This week’s drama took place at another part of the store – the pharmacy. There was no line, and I’d be done in a moment. As I waited, a hearty voice boomed out, “Morning, girls. How’s it going today?” I turned to see a large man had joined me. He got scant response from the “girls” at the counter, so to ease any embarrassment, I attempted to be sociable. Falling snow was visible through a large window. “Snow in April,” I said.

“Yeah. But don’t say global. Just don’t say global. I’m so sick of that shit. It’s got nothing to do with it. Global, yeah, and another thing, that electric car crap -“

What had I started? And how could I stop it? He was primed to continue. Normally, I’d have just shut up, but that could seem like agreement, or as though I’d been intimidated into silence.

Surprising both of us, I said quietly, “I can say global anytime I want to. Global, global, global.”

Global, global, global.

He backed away and ceased his rant. It made me feel good, until I thought, did I just join the Walgreen Wierdos?