Carrie Link

CAN I HELP YOU FIND SOMETHING?

My Target is as torn up and turned around as my Safeway - and I've tried to be patient, but this may be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Yesterday I went to what used to be the store I knew like the back of my hand, and nothing was where it "should" be. Nothing. Maternity clothes were where my Goldfish belong. Menswear was where I buy my inkjets. Never did find the CD jewel cases I've come to rely on.

As I wandered around Health & Beauty looking for a flippin' toothbrush, I spot it, grab it, and toss it in my cart on top of the toilet paper.

A young employee crouched down, stocking shelves, chirpliy says, without looking up, "Can I help you find something?"

"No thanks," I answered, "I just found what I'm looking for."

Off to find saline for STM's contacts, I again appear in her peripheral vision.

"Can I help you find something?" she asks, again, not looking up.

"No thanks - it's still me. I'm good," I answer, slightly less patiently than the first time she asked.

We repeat this routine three more times as I locate Q-tips, shampoo and deodorant, all a split second before her mantra.

If she asks me one more time, I'm going to lose it, I think to myself.

Just about to make my escape and she says, "Can I help you find something?"

I look at her, ready to blow, but something comes over me and I think, God, how I'd hate her job and I say, instead, "It's me again. I appreciate your help."

She finally looks up, saying, "I'm just on autopilot. Everyone is so crabby around here with all the construction."

"You have a hard job," I say, meaning it, my two minutes in her department about doing me in, unable to fathom the 40 hours a week she spends in it. Finally getting out of my own self-involvement long enough to look at the bigger picture.

Turns out? She helped me find something.