Friday, November 22, 2013

A Junkie Walking Through the Twilight


I am not sure why I care so much, but today I was struck by an obviously strung out man trying to return most certainly stolen over the counter medications to the store at work tonight. He was a wreck in every conceivable way: could not stand still, could barely write without incessant twitching, couldn't speak straight, offered to sell his cellphone to me, a shift supervisor, and customers at the store for 25 dollars (he claimed it was to purchase gas for his car, but we all know that's BS, unless that gas is to drive his car to his dealer). 

We get a lot of depressing customers and crazies who come through that store, especially at night. Indeed, today we had one man who might have been homeless shoplift right in front of me (I was ringing customers out and noticed him stuffing his backpack with liquid soaps) and flee just as I shouted at him and the shift supervisor was on his way to the front end of the store. And per usual, some adolescents came to the store in group (a telltale sign of shoplifting) and I witnessed them stealing some medicines, lubrication, and pregnancy tests. My shift supervisor caught them after I called him and he watched out for them, but the fiends tear the boxes open and just steal the lube, pills, contraptions, etc. that they're looking for. If not, they tear off the security tag or take a chance and run through the door. 

But I am used to shoplifters and thieves. I'm used to the mentally ill and somewhat 'off' customers and regulars, such as the one man who shows up, skips people in line, and doesn't have enough money to pay for things (and sometimes no money at all). I am not used to seeing people in such debilitating states of drug addiction. That man, emaciated, unable to articulate himself clearly, and despite it all, lying through his teeth and attempting to have a conversation with me where both sides knew everything he said was bullshit. It was one of those truly rare moments where communication between two people was, despite the obvious lies if one follows it literally, 'free' in a sense. My heart goes out for that man and all other Bubbles out there, struggling to keep their head above water in these modern, urban wastelands. 

As The Wire teaches us so clearly, if you walk in the garden, you better watch your back. Though I probably won't ever see him again, I hope for the best and actually wish I could have given him cash back on his stolen items he did not have a receipt for (instead of store credit). Drug addiction ain't no joke, obviously, and those 'crackheads, junkies, and methheads need the most help in these dire times where addiction of all sorts destroys entire nations (looking at you, Wall Street, for your corporate greed and addiction and love of money that nearly destroyed the US and global economy).

I suppose my last thing I could possibly say is to reiterate the rarity and importance of fake, pseudo-sincere conversations in forcing us to acknowledge our fellow humanity with those perhaps even more downtrodden. Indeed, one can break through to the other side despite the largely meaningless exchange of words that passes as conversation today, something I did not expect to have with a drug addict this week. Sir, whoever you are, keep your head up. 

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