Tales From a 7-11: Sam

I haven’t played much poker of late, but for some reason I was compelled recently to write a series of vignettes from my days as a 7-11 employee. I figured I might as well post them here on days that I don’t have anything poker-related to say. Please let me know whether or not they are interesting to you; your feedback will determine whether and how I often I post future installments.

Sam

Sam was the store’s oldest and longest standing employee. A Vietnam vet in his late fifties, he only worked the overnight shift. I heard rumors that he had money and didn’t need to work but was just looking for something to do nights.

The overnight shift could drive you crazy, no doubt, but on the other hand one had to be a bit crazy already to request it. Most of the job was cleaning and organizing the store, receiving deliveries, and standing around idle and lonely (it was the only shift to which just one employee was assigned). The mundanity was punctuated by the occasional visit from the crazies who only come out at night.

Sam was everyone’s least favorite employee. He was a grouch and a hard-ass who would savagely berate whomever he was relieving for the smallest infraction: a sticky spot on the floor, a less-than-full freezer, or an insufficient number of milk cartons on display. I was terrified of him.

No one dared to give Sam a nickname, but if I had the opportunity now, I would call him Scrappy. He was short, barely five feet tall, but solidly built and tough as nails. He was balding but wore a Chuck Norris beard and a twenty-four hour sneer.

The manager once showed me security camera footage from a robbery. A little after 2AM, a huge black guy with arms like tree trunks came into the store. He asked for a carton of cigarettes. On the video, you can see Sam step away from the counter and out of view to retrieve them. Chained to the counter was a donation box for the funeral of a police officer who’d been hit by a car during a traffic stop. The thief grabbed the box and ripped it chain and all off the counter, then ran for the door.

The next thing you can see on the video is Sam coming back into view, vaulting over the counter like an Olympic hurdler and sprinting after the guy. I don’t know what he thought he was going to do if he caught the guy, which he didn’t.

I eventually won Sam’s grudging respect via immaculate preparation at the end of my shifts. Everything was all ready for him, we’d change over the registers in a minute flat, and then I’d spend the half hour that we were both in the store bagging ice and filling the coolers. As I left, Sam would thank me, wish me a good night, and occasionally even smile, which was a hell of a lot more than anyone else could get from him.