To the Dollar Store Women

In my little town, there is the requisite dollar store. It blends into the background if you're not looking for it. I never paid it much attention until I figured out it was a million times simpler and faster get milk from, which we seem to always be running out of, than the actual grocery store.

So now, if I only need milk, I only go to the dollar store. And the first time I did this, of course at a weird hour, I ran in, grabbed the milk, and got to the counter within two minutes of parking.

The woman running the check out might have been in her sixties, or she could have lived a hard life. No actually, it was clear she'd lived a hard life, and what her age was was none of my buisness. She had bad skin, thin hair, faded makeup and was incredibly nice. Not that we really talked. She rang me up, we exchanged pleasantries, and while nothing significant happened, she radiated a calmness that I was pretty sure only came from living through total chaos. I had a feeling she'd probably made a lot of bad decisions, and those had probably contributed to her woking at a dollar store at 9:45pm on a Sunday, but she wasn't going to take that out on me. Instead, I walked out of there feeling that the woman hadn't said, Have a good night because it was policy, but because she meant it. It was... unexpected.

The next time I went in there, another woman, much like the last, was the counter. Her tattoo eye-liner eyes was more blue than black, and she was missing a tooth, which I saw when she barked a laugh that milk was so expensive. Her voice wasn't smooth. She looked at me when she spoke, and her tone implied a familiarity which immediately put me at ease. There were no murmured platitudes, spoken so softly they were designed not to be heard. She didn't call me ma'am with a waxy look on her face. Her shirt was stained, and I was pretty sure if I asked her for help outside of ringing up my item, she'd probably give it a good try.

And every time I've gone in the store, whatever woman is working the checkout is unusually effusive. I've come to love checking out at the dollar store. My interactions with the dollar store women are inconsequential, but they are the most genuine interactions I have with total strangers. When I check out at the dollar store, the woman is not on her phone, she's not listening to headphones, she's just there, to help me. It's the most human interaction I might have in a week with someone I don't know. But, the dollar store women also present as being the most unlucky of people. It's clear they have very real life stressors.

So, I don't know why they are so kind and upbeat. I highly doubt they are getting paid enough to pretend to smile, yet they are always smiling. Now, every time I go in there, I feel calm, like I've stepped into a sanctuary that exists outside of normal, caustic society. Yes, half the aisles are always in a cataclysmic state of disrepair. The entire place is harbinger of the late-stage capitalism apocalypse. But, the women working there make me feel validated. Not because they tell me that, rather they are highly imperfect and owning it, and it's contagious.

This is to all the dollar store women out there, wherever you are, whoever you are. I don't think your lives have been easy, yet you exude kindness rather than anger. It's uncommon. And I see it. My day is better for it.

This is for you, dollar store women. Thank you for being the force that you are.