A calm, almost eerie feeling has befallen the store. There's nothing but the harmonious sounds of retail. The beep of transactions at the register. The low murmur of shoppers. RF scanners quietly chirping from every part of the store like crickets on a cool summer night. All set to the sounds of easy listening. It's a rare feeling.
But all in the store knew it wouldn't last. It couldn't last. This was only the eye of the hurricane and the storm would soon return. It doesn't stop. As soon as you take the quiet for granted the tumult returns.
With the rhythm of a dragster switching gears it's soon at full speed. The sound takes over the store. Filling the ears of all with gut-wrenching wails. It's inescapable. It's all-consuming. It's constant. It's a screaming child and it doesn't end.
It sends chills running up the spine. Their cringe-inducing, guttural moans penetrate straight to the soul. You must force yourself to fight the instinct telling you that a child is in distress and needs help. All they really need is that toy. Or a piece of candy. Or some attention.
We do the best we can to stand it. We know they can't help it. But that doesn't help us. The sound gnaws at our brain. Taking away a little more of our sanity with each scream. Each "I want that!" or "Mommy!" or "Please!" brings the edge that much closer.
Luckily, we have our fellow employees to pull us from the brink. A smile, knowing nod or shared roll of the eyes is all we can do to keep sane. Knowing that someone shares your pain can often be enough. It can help you hold on long enough to make it through another storm.
When the fury has subsided, it's time to put our sanity back together. But, of course, just in time to have it fall apart again. Like the Great Plains during the spring, one storm blows through and brings another one following right behind it. You know it's futile, but you pick the pieces back up every time. Why? Because that's all you can do.
