Unfortunately, I don’t have a work-appropriate wardrobe. Or more accurately, I don’t have much of a wardrobe at all. I gave away most of my clothes, and usually wear a rotating cast of jeans and t-shirts that I got from the local discount store. My “nice” clothes have been reduced to one blouse that’s a tiny bit revealing. It has a square neckline which is more or less okay, but the matching skirt only goes down mid-thigh.
Unfortunately, beggars can’t be choosers, so I squirm out of my jeans and into the navy blue outfit. Ugh. I’ve gained a few pounds lately, and the skirt and blouse are a bit tight around my bust and my hips. I look at myself in the mirror critically, pulling the fabric down. Even if it’s a little tight, it’s more or less okay. The dark material is somber and professional, and the hem isn’t too high, so long as I’m not moving. This will have to do.
Quickly, I slip into my one nice pair of pumps and grab a black bag. It looks more like a purse than a business workbag, but again, this isn’t the time to be choosy. Then, I grab my phone and coat, and head out the door.
It’s a mild day, and I don’t actually need the jacket. The breeze ruffles my hair as I exit the trailer park, intent on walking downtown. The path is straight and smooth, but it’s oddly eerie because so few people are out. Hardly any cars pass me as my heels tap quietly on the cement.
But when I arrive downtown, I do a double take because it looks ghostly. Usually Main Street bustles with activity, but today, there are very few people walking around. In fact, many stores appear to be closed, and my heart drops. How am I going to find a job if all the shops are shut? I’d been banking on doing retail of some sort, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to be an option.
My stomach begins to hurt. This isn’t the downtown I remember. I haven’t been here in two months, since before the quarantine started. Joey told me things have changed, but I didn’t think they’d changed this much. I miss the people who always smiled when I walked down the street. I even miss the storefronts filled with objects I could never afford.
I walk a bit, my heart heavy, passing darkened storefront after darkened storefront. Maybe this was a bad idea. I didn’t think it would be this hard to find an open business. I thought the hardest part of my plan would be convincing someone to hire me.
What am I going to do? Finding a job seemed like such a good idea when it came to me in the trailer, but maybe I should have just stayed home. Tears begin to fill my eyes, and my feet hurt. It feels like I have nowhere left to turn, and no options, period.
Suddenly, a small light comes into view up ahead, and I squint. What is that?
As I draw closer, I remember: there’s a grocery store on Main Street. I pick up my pace, hope filling my chest. That’s right. The pandemic mandated that non-essential stores close their doors, but groceries are still open because people have to eat. Not everyone goes to the food bank, like me and Joey.
Finally, I stop in front of the store. It’s called ShopMore, and sure enough, the lights are on. Warm yellow rays cast a glow from the window, and as I peer inside, I glimpse people with carts! Real, live people! My heart dances a bit as my chest fills with hope. Maybe, just maybe, they need help.
Timidly, I go in. ShopMore is like any other massive grocery store with huge displays of paper towels, cereal, and cards. There are towering pyramids of fresh fruit that make my mouth water, and the refrigerated cases for milk and dairy hum steadily. Relief washes over me because it feels safe, as if I’ve entered the Land of Plenty. After scraping by for so long, even a well-stocked grocery store brings tears to my eyes.
A cashier stands behind the check-out counter, looking at her nails, and I walk over.
“Um, hi,” I greet.
She looks up.
“Hi darlin’. Ready to check out?”
Her hair is a crazy shade of red and tied back with a hot pink scrunchie. I try to smile and look normal.
“Um, no. I was actually wondering if maybe ShopMore is hiring? Would you happen to know, or is there a manager I could speak to?”
The woman looks me up and down, but her eyes are kind. I don’t think she’s judging me. She nods.
“We’ve pared down our staff to just a few folks. You know, with the pandemic and all.”
My heart plummets and my cheeks go red.