SongO’TheDay

A few mornings ago I had a dream that I was walking with Renee through a supermarket in the middle of the night.  We walked in and saw carts lined up blocking our way inbetween the checkout counters and I figured that they were closed.  As we were walking past the carts, Renee noticed that there were numbers on all of them except for one.  She knew, somehow, that there was going to be a Supermarket Sweepstakes contest to take place in just a minute and that I should claim the last cart.

A Supermarket Sweepstakes (at least I think that is the name) is when contestants get empty shopping carts and a certain amount of time to run through the store to collect as much as his or her cart will hold, not in the amount of merchandise, but in the value of it. 

I barely had time to think before the people running the contest were telling us the rules.  Renee, normally on the mellow side, was talking to me in a very harsh voice telling me not to fuck up, not to lolligag, and to win this thing.  

I thought, at first, that it would be no problem.  Then the nervousness set in, and when the whistle blew, two other contestants plowed me and my cart into the meat display.  I was left in the dust.  And so while I was pushing my cart- and of course it had one wheel that wouldn’t move- I began thinking how I would make up ground.  I thought to myself “Cigarettes!”.  But then I remembered they keep those locked up behind the counter.  Shit.

Then as I was strolling in a fear-induced stupor, I came across a huge bin of Tiny Chicklets gum.  I remembered that they were no longer produced in the U.S. but were now a Mexican import.  I knew that they were nearly two dollars per package.  I dumped thousands of packets of Tiny Chicklets gum into my cart- it was overflowing- and walked up to the checkout counter.  None of the other contestants were even there yet.

Behind the counter was Newman from Seinfeld.  He was flirting with a woman from produce through the phone and completely ignoring me.  I hemmed and hawed and that bastard turned his back on me.  And I just stood there leaning against my cart (there were no People magazines).  I listened to the muzak playing over the sound system.  I began to realize that none of the other contestants were showing up.  It struck me as odd that Newman was paying no mind.  I stood there patiently and realized I was dreaming. 

I was dreaming and nothing was happening. 

Then a child screamed.  It was my evil neighbor’s evil spawn.  For once I was happy to hear him.  My alarm hadn’t gone off.  It was 8:47….I was already 17 minutes late for work.

I ran up to shower, didn’t wash my hair, skipped the deodorant…the whole bad scene.  I sprinted out to the car and drove fast to BART.  I got really lucky- there was a parking spot at the station.  I sprinted in and caught the 9am train.

And as I sat there catching my breath and looking out the window at some of the poorer parts of Oakland I thought of the guy that started Oracle and how rich he is, and I thought it must really suck to make so much money in one lifetime.  I mean, if you got so rich, don’t you think you’d want- no, feel you deserved- more than one lifetime?

And for the first time in a long time, despite all my previous declarations, I was actually happy that I wasn’t really rich.

-Christopher Earley

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