out of the shell

In my office, there is a protective layer of smooth stone that shelters me from the travails of manual labor. In cubicles and in front of screens, we toil away for hours, plotting the destiny of our stores and the customers who walk through the glass doors. Glass doors with hours on them, a sure sign of retail.

Today, I along with my "corporate" office staff members walked into our stores as helpers and, really, grocery bitches. We were there to do whatever was necessary to make things easier on our store team members as Thanksgiving encroaches. We tidied displays, pulled stock from back rooms and found products for customers. I ran around the store looking for a bearded man who wanted buttermilk that we thought was out but was actually hidden. I would walk a thousand miles for any man who is buying buttermilk to cook with.

Aside from meeting friendly store employees who were bemused by our presence and my ineptitude, the dairy case was my favorite part of the day. I stood in the chilled room with boxes and boxes of egg nog, heavy whipping cream, unpasteurized orange juice, chocolate milk... it was wonderful. The glass doors would open for the searching hands of customers and I would be the shadowy figure shuffling behind the Organic Vanilla Silk Soy Milk. There was something wholesome about stocking the shelves with dairy for the thirsty public. Lactose-free dairy too. And soy. And whatever Coffee-mate is made of.

I was on my feet for most of the day and I came home exhausted. I need to sleep early but I took the time to slice up some tuna and salmon and, get excited, shuck my first oysters. Kumamotos to be exact. I was given a demonstration by Karen and I took my Swiss Army knife to the mollusks with tentative pokes. I actually cut myself but not while shucking an oyster, of course. I knicked my pinky while trying to unfold the blade. That's classic me.

The soft, creamy bodies of the oysters were dipped in variations of ponzu with green onion and lemon juice with Kosher salt and pepper. I prefered the ponzu and sat at my kitchen table, my feet aching, my eyes heavy with the briny, fruity oysters slowly disappearing. All of us out of our shells today. I suppose the body scanners at the airport won't be necessary.