The Snow Shovel

by Linda Carter

I took a part time job last winter. I worked the evening shift at a local liquor store and used my daring news reporter skills to catch the license number for a “smash & grab” bandit who scurried out with about 250 dollars worth of Tequila.

But for the most part, I avoided the limelight and found little corners of the store to claim as my own. What I truly enjoyed was my time with customers, interacting with strangers, hearing their stories and reading their behaviors.

I studied the recovering alcoholic from the halfway house across the street who came in and bought cigarettes, wondering why he tortured himself by staring at rows of bottles.

I found a chair for the drunk woman who was buying vodka and waiting for a cab on one of the coldest nights in our Minnesota winter.

That bone chilling cold hit me hard at 56, as I pushed shopping carts filled with cardboard toward the recycling bin just outside the back door. I carried a box cutter for protection.

One Friday night Sandy grabs the snow shovel at the front of the store and heads outside to deal with the latest inches of white.

She comes back a little later, shaking flakes from her hair. I was there. We laughed about how stupid we were to live in this climate.

I loved working with the guys who supervised on weekend nights. That’s when work hours really sailed by, customers cracking wise as they headed to a party or just home to hang.

When closing, we split up the duties evenly and got out of there as soon as we could.

On this night, the closer noticed the snow shovel leaning against the store beside the front door and not wanting to deal with the alarm system again, he simply put it in the back of his truck and left.

I only know the aftermath from stories, but I have a feeling I can be accurate in my description. 

Sandy comes to work Saturday morning, a rough turnaround from a busy Friday night.

She is questioned about the snow shovel and swears she brought it back inside. Boss cues up a security videotape showing she did go outside with the shovel and return without it.

Sandy turns and heads to the back of the store. Everyone assumes she is clocking in.

            Minutes tick by and no sign of Sandy.

Legend has it she walked out the back door and strolled around the large building to the front lot where her car was parked.

This is the part of the story where I smile and picture her making that glorious trek.

This woman got pregnant at 14. She raised her kids for years as a single Mom. She had worked more jobs than I could count to make something of her family. And a pipsqueak from a wealthy family who had never known a hungry day in his life was questioning her honesty about a 12-dollar snow shovel.

Later that day, the guy who put the shovel in the back of his truck shows up for work and is shocked to hear of his innocent complicity.

We all have a line that no one is allowed to cross. Self respect, pride, it’s so important.

The Boss spent time and effort cuing up this tape and exposing a simple mistake. She was a good worker and she deserved better.

Story by Linda Carter

@2014