Closing Time Crowd.

It is 8:45pm at my local supermarket, the store is winding down, cashiers getting ready to go, and that’s when the crowd begins to build. First it’s a quick walk by the hot chickens to see if they have been marked down yet, no, I keep walking. With only five hot chooks left and at least six people vying for contention, I don’t walk far. There is an old couple that look like they have been in this situation before, as I have, they know as well as I do the moment those chooks are marked down, the race is on. A young woman with child begins to notice we are all waiting for the same thing, as do the young couple, and the glances begin. A woman in Hi-Vis looking like she just got off work begins to circle, not wanting to be the one left hungry. Times are tough, and we are the closing time crowd. $12 for a hot chicken all day but in that 15minute window right before closing time $5 is the going rate for a full belly, and if your lucky sandwiches the next day. The young team member emerges from behind the deli, I have often wondered how aware they are when they are marking down each chook. Do they feel our eyes watching every move, do they even notice the ever closing circle, courteously waiting for them to leave before moving in. The young mother all timid waits by the bread, not wanting to seem too pushy, and on a night like tonight that’s not a good move, but unknown to her tonight is her night, I have already decided if she misses out my chicken is going to her, a lack of food is nothing new to me, but with a baby she needs the strength. For all I know she is well off and just trying to grab a deal, but something tells me that is not the case. The elderly couple being pros, presumably having had years of chicken buying under their belts begin to wander towards the chooks which still steamed having only been cooked an hour before. I peeked at the label as I went past the first time, it’s always good to know how fresh they are. Tonight they over estimated their sales, which if they ever stopped doing would surely be a bad thing, for this scene is being played out at a hundred stores by hundreds of people, all part of the closing time crowd. The team member get barely 5 steps before the first chook is gone, the elderly couple coming up in her blind spot move the chook from the heat tray to their trolley with speed and skills I can only compare to football players. The coordination of their movements synchronized by years together allowed them the honor of the first marked down chook. The high-Vis lady comes out from behind a stack in front of me, the fluro yellow blinding me momentarily, good move I thought. She pauses at the tray sizing up each chicken, still four to choose, she’s lucky. As I arrive at the tray she is already gone, striding towards the cashiers, overtaking the old couple. I look down at my three chicken choice, only two remain, the young couple disappear behind me the smell of chicken all around. As I reach for my chicken I look up, the young woman is looking over, eyes full of disappointment as she stands back up, clutching her babies bib. It had only been 8 seconds since the team member began to walk away, three chickens already gone, four with mine and two couples waiting in the wings, her baby had distracted her, and it cost her the start. You could tell she was hoping for this chicken and having already decided that my chicken would be hers, the only decision left was what to do about me. Normally on discount chickens I would only take two if there was ample, not wanting someone who really needed it to go without. Tonight I was stuck, two racers were not getting hot chicken tonight. The young lady already giving up as the first of the two waiter racers began to move. I had but moments, I would gladly go without for another of the closing time crowd, these waiter racers, weren’t. With that and not a second thought I clutched both chickens with one hand and blew past the incoming waiter racer, looks of scorn for having taken both chickens. Like they really needed it, one look at their trolley told me it was just going to be there little smile point for the day, what a bargain love he would have said to her that night. We the closing time crowd don’t get bargains, we don’t get specials, we can never afford the normal price. We closing time crowd who only get hot box food when it is too hard to be eaten, when multiple items for a dollar is something that can be afforded, and is too often counted on. I pick up pace to deliver my saving grace, my frowned upon extra chicken, the chicken that brought me scorn. The chicken whose destination is now more than a bargain belly. I find her looking at noodles, noodles I thought (I love noodles but it’s no food for a mum). She is startled by my approach, it’s not everyday someone walks directly at you in a supermarket, so I let myself smile (something I hate doing) and held out the chickens. Up close she was a beautiful girl with long dark hair, even with the bags under her eyes courtesy of the baby, not quite a newborn yet not quite a baby, probably at the three month point where the lack of sleep begins to catch up with you. She looked confused as I approached, like a goose, arm still outstretched. I stumbled over my words but managed to convey that I had noticed her waiting for the markdown with the other closing time crowd, which only confused her more as I tried to tell her about the race, It wasn’t coming out right so I managed one last sentence informing her the chicken was hers, her smile was all I needed for my shyness to finally take hold, not wanting to look like I did it to hit on her, I cut off her thank you mid thank with a that’s ok as my legs were already walking me away. Destined for the bakery, I wonder what might have been if I stayed, but it’s almost closing time and I still need bread.