The Best Part of Working in a Convenience Store is...

the never ending array of interesting conversations that I have with customers.

Along with my wonderful conversation I had with Charlie in my previous post...Ive had so many funny, exciting, and just plain eye opening conversations with customers....both regular and those that are just passing through. I try and keep some paper nearby just so I can write down some witty sayings or interesting observations but invariably forget it at work and it gets thrown away. I will try harder to keep track of them as they are definitely worthy of a book some day..LOL.

A recent conversation I had with one of my regular elderly customers had me laughing and joking but also made me stop and think about how we tend to judge someone quickly based only on looks...without knowing a single thing about what makes them tick.

Take Oliver for instance....

Oliver looks to be in his 70's, almost always wear a white t-shirt with a pair of denim bib overalls (which reminds me a great deal of my grandfather) and has a quaint air about him that is very gentlemanly and proper. He has a wonderful smile as well with just a touch of an accent that is very northern. He is a joy to converse with when time permits...and a few nights ago time permitted..our conversation when something like this.

Now when I first had a chance to have a proper conversation with him we delved into such things as philosophy, the death penalty, world events etc...and he has wonderful points of view...varied and not what you would expect...or at least not what I expected. So when our recent conversation took a twist...I was both surprised...and not...by his thoughts on the subject.

We started talking about "trying something new" in order to keep things and life interesting. The mundane and ordinary just made life boring and not worth the effort...so says Oliver...and a lot of other people I'm sure. So, when he asked me what was I willing to try that was new and different from my "norm"...I seriously tried to shock him with this..."well, Oliver, I was thinking of giving the gay lifestyle a try"....and waited for the condemnation. The older generation tend to not "swing that way" for the most part...another assumption that was about to be shattered.

Oliver got very thoughtful for a minute then looked at me straight in the eye and said something that I will remember years from now when so many other things about working at that store will be forgotten. He said..."when it comes to love we surely can't choose whom we love...so who are we to judge when people find love whether we agree with it or not?" While I took that wonderful statement in he hit me with another one...

He told me that he had served in the military and that while he had never "swung that way" (loved that he used that phrase) he said there was this one soldier that always "took his breath away" whenever he saw him. The faraway look in his eye and the softening of his voice told me that he was experiencing that "breathless state" once again...no doubt many decades later.

I was amazed by the passionate tone of his voice and by the fact that I had misjudged him obviously...assuming something about his beliefs and what he accepted as "life" and what was an "abomination" according to some. How refreshing to have my assumptions shattered.

He left me with a parting thought...he told me since we can't choose whom we love...when love chooses us we should grab it with both hands...cause it is so hard to find. I was in a fantastic mood for the rest of the night despite my sore feet and unending line of secret alcoholics clamoring for more.

The next night I was off but my co-worker told me he came in again and asked about me. Apparently the conversation had left a mark on him too...he asked my co-worker if I was busy "trying something new yet"...LOL...she said give me some time...knowing me it wouldn't be long. (she was joking ...I think)

Then again...he came in last night and we discussed how kids these days need a good beating as they are so "pansy assed" and "coddled" from the assumption that "every ones a winner"....he suggested the "switch make a comeback" as a form of punishment. Something his own father used on him and see how well he turned out...LOL. While I don't agree with physically punishing children (I myself was an abused child) it was interesting to hear his thoughts.

Anyhow, I was chatting with a "chat buddy" back in Jan and I told her that this was my year to be an Instigator...to shake it up...get people agitated...cause mayhem and destruction if possible just to prove my one point...YOU MAY THINK YOU KNOW ME BUT YOU DON'T KNOW ME...I might be 41 but I've still got a few surprises left in me...so you never know Oliver, I just might take you up on your challenge...to try something new...

And here I was thinking college was about as much as I could handle just now...LOL. Stay tuned people for the results of my "try something new" challenge.

Red

(there will be no pics with this post of little ole' me for two reasons....I no longer have a scanner and pics of me as a child would break it if I did...*sigh*)

As anyone that happens to know me in real life knows and for those that have bothered to glance at the pic on the right there, and still for those that have wondered about the "red" in Coolred...it's maybe no surprise that I'm a natural born redhead. From the moment I exited mothers womb I've had varying degrees of flaming red hair that has been, at times, the bane of my existence. All my life I have been made to feel at some point or another that the mere fact that HAVE red hair was somehow my fault. As a child I was ridiculed without end by other children and adults alike. Something that was said to me yesterday in the store by a customer brought back some memories and inspired this post.

And so...the story of Red.

As mentioned, I had a flaming crop of red hair from the moment of birth, all though at that time it looked more like red fuzz...mix that in with my ocean blue eyes (at the time...have gone more grey blue now) along with some whiter than cotton white skin and you've got the makings of a child that stuck out like a sore thumb because everyone else in her family had brown hair, brown eyes, olive toned skin and looked like they were related to each other. Over the years I have lost count of how many times people have asked me.."where did you get that red hair?"...hmmm? the same place you got your brown, blond, black hair I'm guessing...the gene fairy? Or maybe I was one of those special babies that got to preorder what I would look like once born...in that case I would have left out the fat gene all together. *sigh*

At any rate, Mom tells me when I was actually still a baby she was forced to defend her fidelity to friend a stranger alike again and again as people would take one look at me, at my siblings lined up looking rather Native American mixed with some other darker skinned toned people, and then see me shining so bright I practically glowed in the dark. More than one set of eyebrows were raised...and that continues to this day. In the beginning it was all joke joke snicker snicker....you cheated with the mailman didn't you? but eventually it gets tiring being made to feel as if your an outsider and don't belong to your family. On the other hand, there have been times when I secretly prayed I WAS adopted, or better yet STOLEN, and didn't in fact share genes with this family of mine that continues to this day to make me want to commit either murder or suicide depending on my current levels of stress and their desire for drama.

Now, as I mentioned, I was tormented as a child for having red hair. I was called too many names to remember (all though I can remember them all probably if pressed..somethings are never forgotten, just lurk in the background of your mind until something comes along to jog it to the fore front...as did customer in store). My red hair has a curious affect on people that I've never quite understood. I've had complete strangers reach out and feel it, something that happened in the Bahrain A LOT right from the start of my life there, mix that in with not knowing what they were saying and just being culture shocked anyhow...see where I'm going with this? Very disturbing. Akin to what a pregnant woman feels like when strangers (and not) just reach out and feel her tummy...as if her body no longer belongs to her and is public property to be felt up at will. Very very annoying.

The creative names that children and adults alike have come up with to label me with can range from hilarious (to them) to just down right mean (to me) and, while Red may seem rather redundant, it is the one that most people will call me when they don't know my real name. I'm cool with that...hence Coolred. So now you know about THAT. LOL.

At any rate, my red hair has gone in and out of fashion over the years. I've never been to hair proud...I'm pretty much a wash and wear kind of girl...so the hair has never really changed but I would assume peoples attitude towards it has. Depending on current fashion trends, of which I know zilch about, my red hair can either inspire or cause finger pointing and giggles. *sigh* For the most part I can ignore and get on with it, I'm grown now and no longer allow people to intrude on my peace of mine with their hurtful remarks concerning my hair. (doesn't quite work with other body parts but I'm passed the hair stuff). However, as a child I spent far too much time lamenting the fact that I was CURSED with red hair. And yes...that is how I was made to feel...cursed by God in some way for having something few others had. It was almost like a disability or affliction that people cause people to tut tut over and pretend they didn't notice so as not to hurt your feelings...or just straight out say something completely asinine not realizing that inside I was screaming in rage at God for making me different. *sigh* Sometimes I wonder if my sketchy relationship with God that has waxed and waned over the years, got its initial shove because of my red hair and the effects it has had on my life and psyche? Anyone care to comment on that?

So the way it worked out over the years was...when small, other kids would make fun of me, adults would question my paternity or alternatively gush over me in a profuse fashion as if I was disabled...then when a teen, boys would make snarky comments concerning my red hair (all though more than once I would catch them gazing at it...lol) and girls would gush over how they wished that had that color...but could never dye it just right LOL...and as an adult I would be asked a million times whether this was my REAL hair color, if not, who the heck made this wonderful shade of red cause they were buying it and dying their hair soon as they got home...blah blah blah. Then they go on the way...and I'm still here...with my red hair...just busy getting on with it. *sigh*

Now, back to the customer that inspired this story. An older man came in for a few things and while most of our customers are regulars, we get a few that are merely driving through. You can pick them out easily by the weary way they slouch to the coffee machine or make a beeline for the bathrooms. Rumpled clothes and equally rumpled faces and hair and a certain look of "I'm tired and have no idea what town I'm in" look about them. This older man was quite talkative once he seen me sweeping the floor and struck up a conversation that was quite the eye opener...or should I say gave a previously unknown insight into the power of my red hair...or any red hair I would assume.

This mans name was Charlie and Charlie commented on how beautiful my hair was and right away claimed he "just knew" it was natural and not some poor attempt at true natural red hair. LOL Then Charlie went on to astound me with his declaration of absolute adoration of all things red....when it comes to hair. He said as a young boy he use to chase the girls with red hair and make fun of them simply because he was overwhelmed by their red hair and didn't know what to make of it. He said, every other girl had blond or brown or black hair and it was all so humdrum but red hair shone like the sun, made his eyes hurt to look at it almost and made his hands want to reach out and touch it for some reason. He said as a boy he was , of course, stupid and didn't know one emotion over another, and so assumed that desire to reach out and touch it meant give it a good yank and make her cry. He claimed that he was awestruck and overwhelmed by red hair and just didn't know what to make of it....just knew it caused a reaction in him. Eventually he sorted out his feelings and married a girl with red hair and lived happy ever after...well not quite...apparently she had a wicked temper and eventually it was either kill her or get divorced. He opted wisely for divorce...but that hasn't put him off redheads apparently as he went on to describe his many girlfriends etc that all somehow had varying shades of red hair.

At this point I'm starting to wonder if this was some sort of elaborate pick up line even though he was quite a bit older than me by the look of it, but then he shook himself back to the present and looked at me and said....

"Don't ever let anyone give you shit about your hair. It just means their jealous and probably means they want to touch it."....then he paid for his coffee and left.

I'm 41 years old and by God if that isn't one of the best explanations for the effect red hair seems to have on people I have ever heard. Not sure if it's true or not...but apparently its true for Charlie...and that's good enough for me.

Red hair might not be so bad after all. LOL