A&p Queenie Perspective
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A&P-Queenie
Every summer my family and I go to our house in the cape just north of Boston. One hot summer morning, I was leaving the house to meet my family at the beach, suddenly I remembered my mother asked me to pick up a jar of “Kingfish Herring” for her and her friend to snack on at the beach.
I started to walk across the street to my friend Lacey’s house. Lacey lives just outside Detroit, but like my family, her family comes to the cape for the summer. Our families’ have been friends for about 10 years, but we normally don’t see or talk to each other during the year, only summertime seems to bring us together. Traditionally Lacey and I leave for the beach together, even at age 7 we walked with our mothers, so I knew I had to tell her about this errand before I left for town.
Arriving at Lacey’s house I walk to the backdoor letting myself into the house. Lacey was putting on tanning lotion in the kitchen, “Lacey,” I called to her, “my mom wants me to pick up snacks for the beach, do you want to go into town with me?”, “Sure,” she replied, “do you mind if my cousin comes with us?”, “Of course I don’t mind,“ I answered, “but we have to get moving, my dad only left me the car to use ‘til noon.”
While driving, Lacey and I laughed while reminiscing, over old stories of love and trouble that we seemed to get into over the past decade at the cape, Lacey’s cousin Mary was quite, she seemed shy.
We arrived at the A&P and I realized that the store was almost devoid of any human life, but it was mid Tuesday morning most towns people were either working, or at the beach.
Two men were working the front end, the cashier at register 3 was helping an older looking woman with a sun hat, Capri pants ,and far too much make up on, the other cashier was leaning on the bag rack behind him, enjoying a break in a slow day . Both of the clerks looked as if they were in their early twenties, definently townies, the townies hated summer vacationers. Townies never said a word to vacationers, and you could tell in their attitude; they all longed for Labor Day to roll around so everyone would go home, bringing peace to their little town again. My observations of the store and town politics were a monetary distraction, snapping out of thought I noticed my friends walking ahead of me into the first aisle, looking for the fish that my mother requested.
The herring wasn’t to be found in the first aisle; it seemed to be dedicated primarily to breads and other baked goods. I moved onto the next aisle where my friends were already. Catching up to my friends who were scouring the racks and shelves for cookies and crackers find nothing that suited their fancy. “Did you find the fish?” I asked the girls, Mary shook her no signaling they didn’t find the fish.
While walking to the next aisle I caught a glimpse of the clerks watching me and my friends, they must not get many people in here dressed in just bathing suits. Lacey saw this too, huddling around me with Mary, Lacey whispered, “Maybe we should hurry up, I don’t think they appreciate us in the store in just bathing suits.” I didn’t see a problem with our attire this is a beach community, but to make her feel better I quickly searched the shelves for the fish.
As I scan through the shelves I see pet food, pastas, rice, drinks, cookies, and crackers but no herring. I catch sight of a man at the meat counter, and thought to myself maybe he can be of some help in finding the herring. “Excuse me,” I read a nametag that reads S. McMahon “Mr. McMahon do you know where the ‘Kingfish Fancy Herring Snacks’ are located?” to which he points to the aisle and responds “Two aisles over that way, past the Diet Delight Peaches.”
My friends and I proceeded to the aisle, and found a grey jar labeled “Kingfish Fancy Herring Snacks in Pure Sour Cream“, I picked it up, finding what I came into town for, and walked to the front of the store and proceeded to the registers. I looked for a line to get onto; two registers were open I thought to myself I’d get on the shorter line. As I arrived at the first register, there was an old man in baggy pants who was buying 4 cans of pineapple juice, he was having