City Life, Part Fifteen: Pakistani Convenience Store
Pockets Of Poor People Purchasing Paper Promises
”No lottery tickets for you!”
Five times a week, on my way to work, I stop at a Pakistani-owned convenience store situated under the CTA Red Line tracks at Argyle St. I know that it’s Pakistani-owned because, during the recent protests in Cairo, I asked the owner, “Are you excited about what’s happening in Egypt?”
“We’re Pakistani,” came the gruff reply.
I’m typically on a mission for one or two things when I enter that store:
- a Diet Coke, every time;
- and a pack of American Spirits (yellow), every other time (I smoke half a pack a day).
Invariably, there are pockets of poor people in the store:
- discussing lottery tickets;
- buying lottery tickets;
- scratching lottery tickets.
There’s always a line at the one cash register devoted to selling these paper promises; and typically no one at the other two registers.
[By the way, I am aware that the Alliteration Police might have me arrested for that last paragraph (“pockets of poor people purchasing paper promises”). But these days, I write mostly during slower valet shifts. So, I do what I can to amuse myself.]
The guy selling the lottery tickets reminds me of the Soup Nazi from “Seinfeld“. He rolls his eyes and sighs a lot. However, when I arrive at the counter to make my purchases, his demeanor changes on a dime. He hails me with a smile, “How are you, today, sir?”
All of the lottery people then look at me, as if to say, “Humph, special treatment for the white guy!”
