Mini Mart Princess

I've been thinking about going back to work of late. Ever since hubby's unexpected job change back in September things have been, well, different. And with the girls being a little older and in school full time now, I figure I can dust off my resume and take a little of the pressure off.

So I have been perusing the job market. In order for this whole thing to work, the type of position I will be looking for will have to either be only during school hours (with summer and all school vacations off), a position where I can work from home, or something 3rd shift.

So I've been reading the want ads and thinking about what it would be like to work nights again when WHAM. It hit me. I remembered the best way I had been asked for a date. Ever.

Some background:
About a bajillion years ago, in a place far, far away... I took a job to supplement my college existence. I worked at the Mini Mart right near Montana State University. Thursday - Sunday 11pm to 7am shift.

Got the most interesting customers too -- a real slice of humanity visits the Mini Mart in the middle of the night. You got the stoners from Langford Hall -- pooling their quarters for nachos and trying to act straight, The guys headed for "home" on dates nervously (and more often, drunkenly) snagging a box of Trojans, there was "road rash guy" (a rather unlucky bicycling enthusiast), all of the area cops, people playing "beat the clock" with liquor sales, normal folks, crazy folks, just folks. And me. Nineteen or twenty years old and a captive audience behind the counter.

And I got hit on. A lot. It was to be expected I guess, if for no other reason than my "captive audience" status. The general inebriation of many of my male customers contributed to getting hit on too, 'cuz if you don't ask the answer is always no. Right? And I will admit. I was pretty cute. Not drop dead gorgeous by any stretch of the imagination. But pretty damn cute at 2 am on a Friday night.

I had made a deal with myself early into this gig that I would not under any circumstances accept any kind of a "hey, you wanna go out sometime??" proposals just because I happened to be the only upright female for a 3 mile radius at 3 am on a Saturday night. Wasn't. gonna. happen.

Until it did....

There was this guy that would come in on Friday or Saturday nights. Completely unremarkable except for the fact that it was always like 3am and he was always sober. After long lines of drunk people cross your path, the sober ones stand out, I'm tellin' ya...

He was maybe 5'10" blondish, glasses, medium build. Generally pleasant. Fairly nice looking. A nice guy. And one night, right after he paid for his skittles and coke he pulled from his pocket a gift. And laid on the counter a cassette wrapped in a single page of hand written sheet music.

"Here." He said "I wrote this for you."

Then he left.

And damned if he hadn't written me a song. No singing, mind you. Turns out he was a pianist, studying for a music degree at MSU. He had written me a song and recorded it for me.* (This was above and beyond -- there was no casual CD burning in 1990.) So, after listening to that fine piece of music and getting advice from all of my friends (can you imagine the oooohing and awwwwing over *that* ladies?) well, what is a girl to do?

The next weekend when he came in, he asked me out.

And I said okay.

There's no happy ending here. I have no idea where he is today. But I can say that that was far and away the best "date askin" I ever got. Really, bar none.

He also played in a band. If you are ever in Montana and get a chance to go listen to the Loose Tubes play, GO. They do a fantastic version of Mustang Sally. (Or at least they did.) And I can vouch for the key boardist's hands. He knows what he's doing... ;)

*Am I the only one? Probably not. But it was nice none the less....