Shut the Front Door

Portlandia. "The place where young people go to retire."

Yesterday at Powells, our hipster donning, non-pastel color wearing, monotone speaking, cashier, provided us an experience. He spoke just a decibel above a whisper, just so we could hear that his voice was manly to match his skinny, upper lip styling 'stash'. After turning the book over a few times, in an effort that looked much more like weight lifting, he sighed a deep sigh, and asked what floor I got my book on ... obviously irritated that the bar code would not scan, but hoping not to do any extra work than at all possible. About three minutes later, he determined that the $1.00 Clarence stickers were indeed legit, and not just mine own doings to try to get a them at a lower price. I got my books, and he seemed relieved that I would not, heaven forbid, need a bag to put my books in, because I indeed had my own. Oh dear Mr. Powells man, I am sorry that you were working overtime, and that I caught you on your 11th hour during a normally 10 hour work week. I know that you came to Portland to retire young, to not work too hard, ... congratulations, you have achieved your goal.

And to the customers who come in and out of Posies Cafe of where I sit... how hard is it to close a door behind you? We sit on this couch, glancing through the windows, analyzing your every move, and critizing when you are unable to simply shut a door behind you. Not all doors are auto-shut. I know that you all came to Portland to retire early, and you are already on your days off, you have more of them then you work, but ... for the sake of those sitting on the couch, catching the drafts... please take the time to just shut the door behind you.