The Missionary Barrel

Back in the day they used to call it the “missionary barrel.” Some frontier church in New England would gather up everything they couldn’t really use anymore – little boy’s breeches, navy blue; old candlestick holders, slightly tarnished; fifty embroidered handkerchiefs, a little yellowed;. . .

The Little Shoplifter

I was checkout-girl at work yesterday. I had a never-ending stream of customers all night: wrinkly old people buying cheap cigarettes, smelly guys buying condoms, a girl with Vogue and mascara in her basket, high schoolers buying energy drinks (for what? they didn’t have. . .

crazy work

Crazy day at work today, at the Photo Counter. Machines breaking down and customers innocently asking, “but why can’t I have my photos in one hour?” Because the machines don’t work. I am going to move to Nebraska soon, or maybe start my own. . .

A Cedar Point Summer

“Thank you for calling Cedar Point Central Reservations, my name is Celia. How may I help you?” Yep, this summer I took a job at Cedar Point, an amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio. Sandusky is a lake town with one Wal-mart, 53 hotels, 10. . .