Scene: It’s 2006. 19-year-old me behind the register at a local pharmacy. My summer job until I return to school for my sophomore year. A woman comes into the store and starts perusing the aisles in a peculiar, suspicious manner. My supervisor — a petite, blonde girl, who is maybe a year older than me, at best — has me follow her. Standard retail procedure: pretend to clean the aisle, to put things away, yet all the while a presence around a potential shoplifter.
The woman doesn’t purchase anything, but she also doesn’t steal anything. She just leaves.
“Thank you so much for doing that,” my supervisor said. “I would’ve done it myself, but you’re so much more intimidating. I’m too tiny — I wouldn’t scare anything.”
I smirk self-consciously. Me? Intimidating? I’m 5’11”, but the idea of me holding any weight or space is foreign to me. Continue reading