During the summer, we regularly visit our house in the Cape, which is situated north of Boston. One scorching morning, as I was heading to the beach to meet my family, I remembered that my mom had requested me to purchase a jar of Kingfish Herring for her and her friend’s beach snack.
I started walking to my friend Lacey’s house, which is situated just outside Detroit. Despite living far apart throughout the year, our families have maintained a strong friendship for the past ten years. However, it is only during the summer that we have the opportunity to see or talk to each other. Our custom is to go to the beach together, and even at 7 years old, we walked alongside our mothers. Therefore, before heading into town, I knew I had to let Lacey know about this task.
Upon arriving at Lacey’s house, I enter through the backdoor and find her in the kitchen applying tanning lotion. I ask Lacey if she wants to join me in town to pick up snacks for the beach, as my mom requested. Lacey agrees but asks if her cousin can come along. I don’t mind and respond, “Of course not, but we need to hurry since my dad only allowed me to use the car until noon.”
While driving, Lacey and I reminisced and laughed about old stories of love and trouble that we encountered over the past decade at the cape. Lacey’s cousin Mary appeared quiet and shy.
We arrived at the A&P and noticed the store’s lack of customers. It was mid Tuesday morning, a time when most townspeople would be at work or the beach. Two young clerks stood at the front register, with one helping an older woman wearing a sun hat, Capri pants, and excessive makeup. The other clerk leaned on the bag rack, enjoying a break during this slow day. Both appeared to be town natives who disliked summer vacationers. Their attitude towards vacationers was evident in their silence – they yearned for Labor Day to arrive so that peace would return to their little town.
While observing the store and town politics, my friends proceeded ahead of me into the first aisle in search of fish, as requested by my mother. However, herring could not be found in this aisle; it seemed to be primarily dedicated to breads and baked goods. Moving on to the next aisle, I caught up with my friends who were searching for cookies and crackers but found nothing that appealed to them. I asked if they had found the fish, to which Mary shook her head indicating their failure in finding it.
While walking to the next aisle, I noticed the clerks observing me and my friends, probably because it is uncommon to see people dressed only in bathing suits in this store. Lacey also noticed this, and she gathered around me with Mary. In a hushed tone, Lacey suggested, “Maybe we should hurry up; I don’t think they like us being here in just our bathing suits.” I personally didn’t see any issue with our clothing since we are in a beach community. However, to reassure her, I swiftly scanned the shelves for the fish.
While searching the shelves, I notice a variety of items including pet food, pastas, rice, drinks, cookies, and crackers, but I cannot find any herring. However, I spot a man standing at the meat counter and think he might be able to assist me in locating the herring. I politely approach him and read his nametag which says S. McMahon, Mr. McMahon. I inquire if he knows where the Kingfish Fancy Herring Snacks are located. He gestures towards a specific aisle and tells me they can be found two aisles over, past the Diet Delight Peaches.
After locating a grey jar labeled Kingfish Fancy Herring Snacks in Pure Sour Cream, my friends and I made our way to the front of the store. Determined to find what I had come into town for, I picked up the jar and proceeded to the registers. Upon reaching the registers, I observed that two were open. Assessing the situation, I decided to join the shorter line. Unfortunately, the first register was occupied by an old man in baggy pants who appeared to be engrossed in a conversation with the clerk. Realizing that this was causing a delay, I swiftly shifted to the next register. Handing the clerk the jar of herring, I awaited the ringing up of my purchase.
While I was waiting for the clerk to check the price of a jar, I reached into a pocket in my swimsuit to get my money. The clerk seemed fascinated, as if a simple act had turned into something provocative. Suddenly, a man who had been pushing a hand truck of cabbage approached me. He sternly told me that this was not the beach. I blushed with embarrassment and explained that my mother had asked me to buy herring snacks. I noticed that the man’s shirt had a name tag that said “Hello, my name is Lengel,” and beneath it was another tag that said “Manager” with decorative stars. Lengel reiterated that this was not the beach. Thoughts of the stern nuns at my reform school and their emphasis on proper behavior ran through my head, but I never liked authority. In an act of rebellion, I responded defiantly, stating that we weren’t shopping and had just come for one thing. I abandoned the expected composure of a lady. Lengel and I both noticed the smirk on the clerk’s face caused by our banter. Lengel quickly turned his head towards the clerk, scowled, and then turned back to me to continue his business.We request that you come in here dressed decently, regardless of the outcome. This man, being from these parts, was strictly conservative in his ways, probably a devout churchgoer, a Sunday school teacher, or a Boy Scout leader – any typical stereotype you can think of. I tried to speak up again, stating that we were decently dressed, but Lengel cut me off. “Girls,” he said, “I don’t want to argue with you. After this, make sure your shoulders are covered. It’s our policy.” With a disappointed expression on his face, he then walked over to the clerk and asked Sammy if he had rung up our purchase. Still shocked by what just happened, Sammy replied with a simple “No” and proceeded to process my payment hurriedly, hoping to get us out of the judgmental store before causing any more disgrace. He handed me my change and we rushed out of the store, quickly making our way to the car.
As the car exited the parking lot, it remained silent until Lacey began imitating the manager, saying “After this, come in here with your shoulders covered. It’s our policy.” She laughed and then returned to her normal voice, saying “Even at 17, you still manage to get us into trouble. Will you ever change?”
