TumbleDweeeb

Bob’s Announcements

   Thursday night at Chill & Fill, and the one-eyed polar bear sign flickers above the entrance like a neon guardian with a perpetual wink. My shift begins with the usual routine… counting the register, checking expiration dates on the milk, contemplating my life choices.
   The intercom crackles to life. That familiar static means only one thing: Bob has announcements.
      “Good evening, valued Chill & Fill customers,” Bob’s voice echoes through our fluorescent kingdom. “This is Bob, your friendly neighborhood owner, with some important community updates.”
   I glance around at our sparse evening clientele… two construction workers grabbing after-shift coffee, an elderly woman meticulously selecting scratch-offs, and a college student whose dinner appears to be energy drinks and microwave burritos.
      “First item of business,” Bob continues, clearing his throat professionally. “To whoever keeps rearranging the letters on our changeable outdoor sign to spell inappropriate messages… while I admire your creativity, ‘Gas Inside, Free Bathroom Inspection’ has resulted in some unfortunate misunderstandings. We are a gas station, not a gastrointestinal clinic.”
   The college student snorts into his energy drink as the radio transitions to Beck’s “Loser,” its slacker anthem providing perfect background music.
      “Second announcement: Our restroom is for customers only, and ‘customer’ doesn’t mean someone who came in six hours ago, bought a single piece of gum, and now considers themselves a lifetime member with bathroom privileges. Looking at you, Greg from the hardware store.”
   The construction workers exchange knowing glances.
      “Third item,” Bob’s voice takes on a noticeably sterner tone. “Yes, we all know Jennifer is pretty. This is not breaking news. What needs to stop immediately is the staring at her chest, the slipping of phone numbers written on receipts, and the asking if she’s ‘available.’ She is available… to ring up your purchases professionally. That’s the extent of the availability situation. Yes, she’s pretty, but she doesn’t want you. Any of you. Especially you, Trevor from the auto parts store.”
   The elderly woman suddenly nods in vigorous agreement, giving me a thumbs-up from across the store. The construction workers find the floor tiles absolutely fascinating.
   Beck’s “Loser” fades out as Salt-N-Pepa’s “Push It” unexpectedly comes through the speakers. Bob’s voice noticeably perks up.
      “Fourth announcement,” he continues with a hint of mischief in his tone. “To the couple who purchased an unusual combination of items last night… whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and jumbo pack of batteries… I just want to say I admire your enthusiasm. Personally, I would have added strawberries, but that’s just my preference. As my ex-wife used to say before she became my ex-wife, variety is the spice of life. Speaking of which, we’re having a sale on whipped cream this weekend. Just putting that out there for all you adventurous types.”
   The elderly woman gasps audibly. The college student nearly chokes on his energy drink.
      “Fifth: To the young couple utilizing parking spot number seven for your… evening activities. Our security cameras are not your personal documentary crew. There are hotels for this purpose. Reasonably priced ones. With privacy. And beds.”
   Salt-N-Pepa’s suggestive lyrics fade as Radiohead’s “Creep” begins playing, creating an uncanny sonic shift to accompany Bob’s broadcast.
      “Sixth announcement: Whoever left their dentures in the hot dog roller warmer last night—congratulations on traumatizing our morning staff. They’ve been properly sanitized and are in the lost and found box. Please reclaim them soon, as they keep chattering ominously whenever someone opens the drawer.”
   Bob pauses, papers shuffling audibly through the intercom.
      “Seventh item: We’ve had to implement a ‘one scoop’ policy at the nacho cheese pump. This isn’t an all-you-can-pump buffet situation. The gentleman who filled an entire Big Gulp cup with cheese yesterday—we’ve reviewed the security footage and know who you are. Your cheese privileges have been revoked.”
   The college student looks mildly guilty as Thom Yorke sings about wishing he was special.
      “Eighth: Please stop asking Jennifer if we sell lottery tickets that are ‘guaranteed to win.’ If such tickets existed, I would not be running a convenience store. I would be on a private island drinking cocktails served by people far more attractive than our current customer base. No offense intended to current customers. Some offense intended to the man who asked this question fifteen times yesterday.”
   I continue restocking cigarettes, pretending I don’t hear the announcements despite being directly referenced.
      “Ninth and final announcement: The slushie machine is not—I repeat, NOT—voice activated. Screaming ‘BLUE RASPBERRY’ at increasing volumes will not dispense your frozen beverage. It will, however, make you look deranged to other customers and on our security cameras, which we do occasionally review for entertainment purposes during slow periods.”
   The intercom clicks, suggesting Bob might be finished. But he returns, voice now taking on a more philosophical tone.
      “In conclusion, dear patrons, remember our motto: Chill & Fill. We’d appreciate if you could all chill your more unusual behaviors, and fill your gas tanks and shopping baskets instead of testing the boundaries of convenience store etiquette. Have a pleasant evening, and remember… the bear sees all.”
   The intercom goes silent for several long seconds. Just as normal conversation begins to resume, it crackles back to life one final time. Bob’s voice returns, now relaxed and casual, as if he’s forgotten the microphone is still on:
      “Oh yeah… I still don’t give a fuck.”
   A sharp click, and then true silence. The elderly woman’s mouth drops open. The construction workers burst into surprised laughter. The college student gives the ceiling speaker a thumbs-up of approval.
   The elderly woman approaches the counter with her scratch-offs.
      “Bob’s in rare form tonight,” she observes.
     “Thursday special,” I reply, scanning her tickets.
    “That announcement about the whipped cream couple was entirely inappropriate,” she says with a disapproving head shake.
   “Says the woman who bought the same combination last month,” I reply quietly.
   Her eyes widen. “I was having a dinner party!”
      “At midnight on a Tuesday?”
   She harrumphs and collects her tickets without further comment.
   Five minutes later, Bob emerges from his office, straightening his Chill & Fill polo shirt with dignity.
      “Educational,” he declares, nodding at me. “Sometimes you have to address issues directly.”
     “That whipped cream announcement was crossing a line,” I inform him.
    “Marketing strategy,” he corrects. “Whipped cream sales up 200% since I mentioned it. Already had three customers ask if the sale has started early.”
      “The denture owner called,” I add. “Said they’ll pick them up tomorrow. Apparently, they were worried the heat might kill the bacteria that ‘helps with digestion.’”
   Bob sighs. “See, this is why we need announcements. Public health concerns.” He pauses. “Also, Trevor called. Says he’s been publicly humiliated and demands an apology.”
       “And?”
      “I told him I’d be happy to apologize when he apologizes to you for the ‘Nice melons, can I squeeze them?’ comment he made last week by the produce cooler.”
     “That should keep him away for at least a day.”
    “Did I leave the mic on at the end?” he asks casually.
      “You did.”
   He shrugs without a hint of regret. “Well, at least I was honest.”
   As Bob returns to his office, the one-eyed polar bear continues its perpetual wink over the entrance, bearing silent witness to another night of retail absurdity at Chill & Fill—where every shift brings new mysteries, and every customer tests the limits of Bob’s increasingly tenuous grip on professional decorum.
   Just another Thursday night under the fluorescent lights, where public service announcements function as both customer education and Bob’s uniquely public therapy sessions.