Mini-Mart Marvel

Marvel Bleachman owns the local convenience store down the street. The rundown store sits on the main drag of town. Most consider it an eye sore however it serves its purpose. It basically sells alcohol, cigarettes, soda pop, lottery tickets and an occasional pipe to those not wanting to venture into the sketchier supermarket. Yes for some reason he sold glass smoking pipes before legalization. Bleachman keeps the store immaculate, almost to the point that he is trying to hide something. The store smells spic and span clean as the floors are bleached with disinfectant far more than necessary.

Bleachman works every hour of every day in his convenience store. A television plays either the local news or game shows.  Shopping in the store can be an escape from reality and not necessarily in a good way.

His is not the only convenience store in town as there is a similar store a mere three blocks away. In theory one should serve the west bound traffic and the other eastbound traffic. If that line of thinking was entirely correct Bleachman’s store should get the bulk of the traffic as is his store is a few blocks off the interstate. However, anecdotal evidence tells a different story.

The store down the street is far more popular and it is a spot of bother to Marvel, why this is true. He has weekly specials on off brand beers and he sells his cigarettes a dime cheaper than the store down the street. He had promised himself he would get out the business as soon as his kids completed college. Education was something he truly valued. And he by all means, that is why he came to the United States, that it being the opportunity for his kids. The Mini-Mart gave him that opportunity. While most stores such as his were moderately profitable his store was a lean mean money making machine. The reason the store made so much money was that he didn’t hire any help. He opened the store and he closed the store. He saw the same customers buy too much wine at night and then coffee in the morning to wash away the ill effects from the previous night. It is not a bad business model.

All his hopes and dreams were tied to the mini mart. And still it numbed him into a state of ennui. He no longer had a real relationship with the kids he was putting through college and he and wife never took a vacation and she never seemed all to worried about it.

He really needed a vacation and it showed.  He was rarely chatty with customers, rarely friendly and he was the face of the business. He was the only person ever there. His hands hurt when he counted out change, and rarely changed displays as his back hurt when lifting heavy objects. And now his daughter wanted to go to grad school.  He did not know if he could keep this up for another three years.

He is a first generation immigrant was living the paradoxical American dream. As if that really existed any more. To those fairly new to the country it was a fable told word to mouth yet never substantiated.

Still the mini mart made money. Recently he has been training his nephew Barry to run the cash register so he can take a little break here and there. As if he would ever take a break before his daughters finished college. He wanted them to get ahead and not work 98 hours a week toiling in a convenience store.

He told Barry he would be back in an hour and he started taking a stroll down Main Street toward the other store in town. The town looked strange to him as he had not been out in the midday sun for years. Well if he had, he certainly wasn’t waltzing down the Main Street in town.

He thought this might be a great time to treat himself to a nice cup of coffee as the coffee at the minimart was drinkable at best. The coffee shop was a half block from Marvels Mini Mart. He walked into the coffee shop and marveled at the plush sofas, the gentle music and that beautiful smell of coffee. He placed an order at the counter and was somewhat irritated that his coffee wouldn’t be ready for a few minutes. He introduced himself to the gitl behind the counter and she asked if he was visiting from another town.

“No I own the store right across the street.”

“Did you just buy the store?” Alex from behind the counter asked with a hint of distraction as a couple entered the cozy little coffee shop.

“You two want your usual?” she said to the couple and they gave a friendly thumbs up. They did not even walk up the counter, rather they took a seat on one of the overstuffed reading chairs.

“I have owned that bloody store for the last thirteen years.” He said to Alex, with surprising lack of bitterness, and he took a seat at the table right in the back room next to the fire place.

He was going to drink his coffee on the way to the other store in town. Against the run of play, he decided to sit and have his coffee by the fireplace. It was peaceful and he liked how calm and relaxed this place made him feel. The paradox of the coffee shop was not exactly lost on him, but he really could not appoint himself an expert. For the last ten years he has either been in the mini-mart,home with his wife of in a deep sleep. As he thought about this, he thought his experience was that of being on a ten year space expedition and the world had completely changed while he was away.

Although his back was facing toward him he thought he noticed the confident arrogance of the customer at the counter. It was none other than his nephew who was supposed to be tending the store. He was in and out of the little bistro, with coffee in hand, while he had waited about five minutes. He remembered when he moved to this country many many years ago. There were still mores and customs he need to learn. Or had he learned that he was the only person who could run the store. Nobody else cared as much as he did.

He soon after, picked up has coffee, and headed toward that other store in town. He noticed a fairly large retail shop on the street corner. He had driven by it hundreds of occasions without registering what the store was actually selling. Heck this is a business trip of sorts, he argued with the logical side of his decision making process. The dominant, risk aversive side of his brain was simply ignoring him today. He decided to go with it and check out what this store was actually selling.

He passed through a large glass door and was greeted by a friendly man asking him to see an ID. The man looked at him again and simply waved him in. Marvel was not sure how to take this microscopic nuanced exchange but this could keep him awake on some other night.

He walked in and was immediately greeted by a rather attractive well spoken woman. He knew she was well spoken before she said a word to him. Here was this customer service person who looked him in the eye and asked him if he needed help with anything.

“Let me look around a little bit” he said as he patted his back pocket confirming he still had his wallet. He never walked around with a wallet. While he worked his wallet was at home. That was the last thing he need stolen. And now he found himself suddenly outside a place he has always been.

His comfort zone.