By Jerome Haller

As I checked in on a Sunday night, the Head Guard sat in the office. He said he’d work at the store during half my shift. That would be much longer than usual. The news concerned me. Perhaps he planned to watch me in action.
About 30 minutes later, a young African-American male stepped past me. His frown and black leather jacket gave him a thuggish appearance.
The Head Guard looked at me and tilted his head toward the visitor. We followed as he walked toward the food section. He stopped and grabbed a box of cookies. I figured we did not have to worry. He could not hide it in his jacket. I walked back to my post. A few minutes later, he paid for the snacks.
I stood by the door and thought about the false alarm. What if the customer had accused the store of racial profiling?

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Posted on November 13, 2009

By Jerome Haller

In order to alleviate the pain of working my crappy job, I’ve started creating nicknames for some of the store’s more obnoxious customers. That provides a bit of levity which helps prevent me from crying or performing a rash act.
The coping mechanism allowed me to survive a recent Saturday night. Four class acts I’ve christened Churros, Coupons, Diapers and Mr. Stinky arrived one after the other.

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Posted on November 12, 2009

By J.J. Tindall

Gleam
I and I buckle at the weight of the load.
I and I suckle at the nape of liberty.
I and I rankle at the prospect of servitude.
I and I cackle at the vehemence of zealotry.
I and I seethe from a locus of pain.
I and I breathe in and breathe out again.
I and I ponder every cloud above the swarm.
I and I wonder if the horse is out the barn.

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Posted on November 10, 2009

By Nick Shreders
Second in a series.
I had the pleasure of entering this hallowed ground after closing on a recent Saturday night. After patronizing the Beachwood Inn for the last couple years, the women’s restroom was the last bastion of uncharted territory. I couldn’t help but be reminded of Armstrong and Aldrin or Lewis and Clark.
Grossness Factor: 1 out of 10.
Contents:
* 1 white plastic bucket underneath sink pipes
* 1 container of generic handsoap
* 1 full length mirror
* 1 picture of Minnie Mouse
* 1 roll toilet paper
* 1 roll hand towels
* 1 sink
* 1 toilet
Ambiance: The women’s restroom is surprisingly clean and lacks graffiti. I don’t recall ever being in a restroom at a bar that did not have some sort of witty statement or someone’s phone number etched on the walls. This adds to the mystery of what it is that women really do when they gather behind closed doors in a restroom.

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Posted on November 9, 2009

By The Beachwood Holiday Messaging Desk
Culled from Texts From Last Night.
*
(513): You tried to wear your Jesus costume into Family Christian stores and say it was a book signing.
*
(252): I had sex with billy mayes last night. HE KEPT IN CHARACTER THE WHOLE TIME.
*
(256): we were dressed as cave people and he kept telling everybody i was so easy a caveman could do it.

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Posted on November 3, 2009

While Barbara Brotman moped.
1. Halsted.

–
2. Going as Twitter.

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Posted on November 2, 2009