I wish I could forget Phil. A week after my 17th birthday, I started working at a local pharmacy. A pharmacist and clerk covered the back of the store, while I ruled over the Lotto machine and front register. If I worked in the morning, I'd make popcorn, coffee, and hot dogs. If I worked in the evening, I'd clean it all up. Not very glamorous but it was a paycheck. For me, the highlight was the customers. Most of them, at least.
We were encouraged to talk with our customers, the regulars becoming like family. We teased and advised one another. I knew who preferred which brand of cigarettes and the latest happenings at their jobs. They learned about how my junior year of high school was shaping up. Everything a first job should be, but for Phil.
The first night I met him, he sauntered in with panache. This was someone to notice.
Over at Deeper Story today with a story I don't often talk about. Head over to read the rest of Part 1 and stay tuned for Part 2 next month.