People Don't Change that much

Almost twenty years ago I worked as a window clerk at the Postal Service for about two years.

The man with his secretary would come in daily. The man always wore shorts and had long country-girl length hair. He was not young. Then, I think he was probably in his 40s or early 50s. He was an Australian. He was the CEO and owner of a recording company.

I found him interesting because as they stood in line he was always dictating letters or instructions to his secretary. She would be busily taking notes. When it was his time with a window clerk he usually would have few recordings to mail. Each time he wanted to look over all the stamps that window clerk would have so he could pick the appropriate stamp to do with the personality of the person he was sending it to, or what ever. He was a micro-manager if there ever was one.

His secretary was British.

One day his wife came with him and the secretary and all three stood in line. Again, he was giving his secretary notes, but this time he was also giving his wife detail instructions on some household work they were having done. His wife was pregnant.

Today, at Krogers I saw him with his entourage: an Asian woman and a young man who looked about 19 or 19. Wednesday is Senior Discount Day. He looked the same. His long hair had some gray strands in it, but otherwise, no.

We kept ending up being in the same aisle or crossing paths here or there in Krogers. He looked at me and smiled and spoke but I could tell he did not remember me enough to know where he knew me from but remembered enough to know he should have remembered me.

I am invisible and forgettable – I get that a lot.

Interesting, the Asian woman kept about a aisle distant from the Austrian and his son. She would study the contents or instructions on a label of something, either decide to buy it or not buy it, go put it in his buggy and so out and scout for some more stuff.

He continuously talked to his son unbelievable details of products and how they were lined up to draw your eyes to it. And in front of a certain product he was somewhat confused and couldn’t figure why they only had two different companies’ product when they normally had three different companies’ products represented.

Strolling down the aisle talking to his son reminded me of the way he used to do his secretary. He needs ears to absorb what he thinks aloud.