Chapter 43
Potato Chips are No Place for a Fierce Warrior

I’ve wanted to use that title for a while and now I feel a bit obligated to write about The Warrior (one of the kids from work). Oh lucky him, a whole chapter devoted to him, well, actually I’m pretty sure I will digress some, starting now.
Yesterday was my second day in the bakery. I certainly hope they don’t try to pull me over there full time. I like helping out every once in a while but I am not some sports player to be traded around by the owner’s. I have rights. I was hesitant about returning to the bakery since on my first visit I heard repeatedly that I know nothing. It was directed to my face, but it was told to managers and others while I was standing right there. I finally said something to the girl who kept saying it, how it was lowering my self-esteem. She told me she didn’t mean it like that, but understood that it was probably coming out the wrong way. So she was paranoid yesterday that I was not happy to be there. I explained that I had pretty much just woken up. I caught on quickly once they started to treat me like a creature capable of learning. I even figured out the elusive label machine that apparently, not too many of our bright young stars catch on to. After that life in the bakery was a lot better. In fact they even tried to hint at wanting me to come back to the bakery to one of my managers who gave her a look and said, “She’s our best cashier.” Translation, “hell no, she’s ours.” I knew that manager wouldn’t let any other department get their claws into me. Anyway, back to the topic I suppose.
So the Warrior is called “The Warrior” because last week we were working and it turns out when he is bored he draws, not elaborate or anything. He had two armies preparing to battle against each other and the people were just dots. I drew a picture of us verses “the man” as stick figures and throwing soup and soda cans and rolling “Big Papa” which is what Warrior calls the watermelons we sell. (side note: My manager found my drawing and stood by my register as he asked me who the man was…I assured him that it was him). So because of these drawings when I left work on Tuesday (the first bakery day) I went to his register before I left and drew a stick figure with a knife in hand and wrote his name and called him the fierce warrior. So therefore he is now the warrior. Yesterday when I was working he came through the bakery and was upset, asking if I was in bakery again. Fortunately for him he gets to work with me on Saturday…that should make him happy. I was thinking about it though, when I boil down time I have been home for three weeks, working all three but the first week I worked mornings and was gone way before they got there. Then I have barely worked with them in the past two weeks. This past week only giving me two nights (and one of them wasn’t late) and then the week before…when did we have time to become friends? I’m not complaining, I just put myself in a time check and it turns out I haven’t been here that long but the fact that these kids already like me after maybe seeing me a total of 6 or 7 days in their lives makes me feel like I have been home a whole lot longer.
It’s funny to think that I will be leaving them, I don’t know when, but I am looking for a “career” job. When that comes along I will be taking it and leaving the grocery store. Maybe not all at once, but I will slowly break away. The more comfortable I get with my new job the more I’ll pull away from this one. How I’ll miss my little friends.