A strange event occurred recently. The 24-hour sign at the local Metro was suddenly replaced with an hours of operation sign. 7AM to Midnight? That's much more like 17-hours a day than it is 24, a practice the grocer started a whopping 6 years ago, back in it's days when it was known as Loeb (see a photo taken some 4.5 years ago, when two friends and I had a sudden desire to make Banana Pancakes).
I'd often wander in there at outrageous times during the night, forced to walk through the exit door with "DO NOT ENTER" stickers. Grocery shopping at 2:30 in the morning was probably the best time to do so. The strawberry yogurt bowls from the day before were marked down, leftover bits of baked goods offered together for next to nothing, and aisles were impossible to walk down as graveshift personnel blocked them with palettes of food, ready to be stocked. You rarely had to worry about any in-a-hurry soccer moms narrowly avoiding ramming into you with a cart filled with Activia and juice boxes and Cheesestrings. The only downside was that there was never any chocolate milk in the cooler when it was on sale. And the Deli was closed. And you could not buy gift cards after 11PM. But everything else was awesome.
And then there was The Guy. I can count the number of times on one hand he wasn't working the express checkout lane (which I guess was only express during the day, since at night, you would have to use it, even if you have 11 items) during my visits. I had made up his entire backstory as a sci-fi lovin, Apple-product totin', PC gamin', quasi-Christian who Skypes his German parents from his living room. furnished with an eclectic mix of furniture (half form Ikea) and a cat. Rain or moonlight, healthy or sick, he was there.
When I first found out about a reinstated closing time, I wondered what he would do. Would he join the rest of his Metro cohorts and work during the day? What would happen to his sleep schedule? Does he sleep at all? Would he find another job that we can work from 11PM to 7AM, perhaps one where he wouldn't need a heat lamp to keep him warm during the winter or interact with suburban youth looking to satisfy hunger in the wake of smoking marijuana cigarettes?
He was working when I stopped in after work this evening. I didn't want to be just like everyone else, who I imagine have asked about how to buy vegetables and frozen pizzas at 4 in the morning, and why the store is no longer 24-hours. For the first time that I can recall, he was wearing a name tag. It was one of life's big reveals. I felt the same sense of satisfaction that I imagine every woman did when Big's real name flashed across the screen at the end of Sex and the City (which was also a 6-year event). I did not feel the sense of disappointment I felt when Mrs. Petrelli casually used The Haitian's real name on Heroes.
24-Hour grocery shopping was a grand experiment, one that probably didn't eventually work out too great economically... at least not in my particular neighbourhood. And while it didn't spawn too many stories like I imagine the poor people who work 24-hour Wal-marts at night get to tell their loved ones, I will miss 3AM shopping within walking distance of my home. Especially when I crave Bagel Crisps.
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