Fear and Loathing in Emporia, VA

So about a year after we started working at the Tombs, we graduated high school. Around that time, BB's parents had a house built in NC on the beach.

ROAD TRIP!!!

We figured we would stop along the way to spend the night in this little place called Emporia, VA. Man, we should have drove all the way through.

2 cars, 5 guys.

We get down to Emporia and check into this Holiday Inn... what a dive...

We go to this liquor store and get a bunch of beer, load the sink in the bathroom up with ice and beer and proceed to drink. Mickey's Big Mouth is the beverage of choice... (what the hell, we were poor!!!)

We get lit and go to dinner... seafood for everyone (I think)...

We get back to the room and holy shit the place is spinning...

"Jerry - move over..." Blaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!

At least I made it to the bathroom before losing it...

Needless to say, we had to leave housekeeping one hell of a tip the next morning and get the hell out of town before the local sheriff showed up and locked us up.

The beginning of a great trip...

Next chapter - Lighting stores and shrimp boats

Nightly Weather Reports

So time goes by and we're all pretty well entrenched in the ways of the Tombs. What's really happened is that we've taken over the damn store and almost run things on our terms. I've bounced from department to department and am now working morning shifts in produce. Dealing with orders, reports and a bunch of other stuff. Just about everything except making schedules and stuff...

BB has gotten into a new routine when he's working in the Customer Service cage - he delivers weather reports over the PA system! Not sure how it started but it got to be a tradition and on some nights if he hadn't done it by 9pm, CUSTOMERS would start asking him what's the weather gonna be...

He had the audience by the nads and kept 'em coming back for more...

Dinner in NYC - MORE BEER

One of the great things about where I grew up is that we were so damn close to New York City. Didn't particulary like to go there often, but you couldn't beat the music scene and it was a good place to go for some good, harmless(?) fun...

There was a place in the city that had this dinner promo where you go in, get a steak and they give you all the shrimp you can eat and all the beer you can drink... Beer? Did someone say BEER?!?!?!?!

Guess what? - we just HAD to check this shit out because it was too good to be true... how dare they challenge the DAWGS to all the beer you can drink!!! The simple FOOLS!!! Silly rat-bastards... we'll show them what "all the beer you can drink" really fucking means!!! HA!

So we go... we sit down, about 8 of us if I remember... the main character is GF - all 240 pounds of him.. the man who can eat an entire pizza by taking one slice and folding it over onto another and eating the damn thing like a single slice... he said it was to make him feel like he was only eating 4 slices instead of the full 8...

The waiter starts by asking for our drink orders... why BEER of course you silly little twit!!! Bring beer - lots of beer... and none of these pansy-ass glasses - WE WANT MANLY MUGS damn it!!!

Oh - and where's the damn shrimp? The simpleton points us to the shrimp bar... we observe... lines of people queued up for the shrimp... OK - we figure we'll play nice (for now) and get in line... GF grabs 2 plates and piles them high ... the rest of us one plate but equally piled high.

Damn - not bad.... then we choose our slab of meat... 8 young carnivorous guys from Joizy daring the scum from NYC to call us out... but no - they bring the meat!! Ah... more beer...

New bowls of shrimp hit the ice... we're there... .we got the timing down just right now... shrimp comes out, we queue up quickly to get the best of the lot and get back in time to catch the bastard clearing plates and trying to slink away without asking us if we want more brew... the bastard!!! We'll show him... BRING 4 MORE PITCHERS! HA!!

We were hunkered down for the better part of 2 and a half hours when the punk noticed that we were human after all and started to slow down and catch our breath...

"Are you gentlemen through?" he asks... What did you just call me you little freak???!!!!! Oh - sorry, of course I'll take my hands from around your throat - I thought you called me a name or something :-)

GF, without blinking, turns to the little terd and says totally deadpan - "NO, BRING MORE BEER"

After another 90 minutes of laughing, drinking, drinking and laughing (and filling in the dead time with more drinking) we were done... It's hard to tell how much $$ we cost that place that night since they so desperately wanted to get us the hell out of there, but we ate good, didn't harm anyone (at least physically, anyway) and left the poor punk a nice tip... we might have been loud, rude and crude, but we tipped well.

Epilogue - we have to figure that the only place for the poor fool who was saddled with serving us that night spent the next 5 or 6 years in therapy where he recounted the sheer gluttony he was forced to endure witnessing at the hands of the DAWGS. No amount of thorazine washed down with large amounts of Jack Daniels could have gotten the visions out of his head... To this day he probably wakes up drenched in a cold sweat screaming ... "Oh the HORROR!!! Make them stop!!! PLEASE MAKE THEM STOP!!!"

I've rambled long enough - where's my beer??

Who's Driving Tonight??

Some of the crap we used to hear just standing around... it was unbelievable!

This next one comes courtesy of a couple of "glitter girls" - typical east coast female versions of the "guido".

These gals were tightly packaged, (usually) well put together, hair a mile high and more often than not, were not the brightest bunch of gals in the northeast. They were living to the image and in a lot of cases, they used so much friggin' hairspray that they had to put signs on their backs that said "Keep Away From Open Flame"!!!!

Most guys didn't have a chance of going out with one of these gals unless their hair was plastic and didn't move in a wind tunnel turned up to hurricane strength, drove a Camaro or Firebird and were named Vito, Carmine or Tony.

Anyway, the timeclock was at the front of the store, around the corner from the customer service counter. Me, BB and GF were there shooting the shit when these two come up to get smokes or something. We can see they were classic glitter girls and the wind blew through their ears as easily as it would down the street.

Anyway - they were contemplating (as best they can) who was driving for their date that night when the conversation got insane (I swear this is true!!):

Glitter-Girl #1 - "Shit - I hope Tony's not drivin' tonight..."

Glitter-Girl #2 - "Why not?"

Glitter-Girl #1 - "Because my hair don't fit in 'da Camaro..."

Needless to say, we all lost it at that very moment and just started laughing our asses off in front of these poor kids. What did we care, not like we were gettin any from those 2 that night. None of us owned (or wanted) a Camaro - (some of those bastards had the NERVE to put flourescent pink wiper arms and radio antennae on the damn cars! That's punishable by being beaten unconscious, being woken up and beaten all over again!!!!)

What really scares me is that these girls most likely reproduced... I wonder if the government ever checked into the effects of second-hand hairspray on unborn children!!

Things that make you go HMMMMMMMM.....

Bakery Mary

Mary was the woman who ran the bakery. She didn't manage it, but she sure as shit ran the place.

Tough old Polish broad. About as wide as she was tall and cussed like a sailor.

When the blueberry muffins came out of the oven, you knew it. Not because you could smell them but because she came around to your area and let you know "Blueberry ready baby!"

She called everyone at the Tombs "baby" - whether you liked it or not.

If she didn't like you though you were also crowned "little fucking shit". She had a few of those at the store. Luckily, I was one of those that she liked, which was good because those muffins were damn good!!

Pulling the Trailer with Mary Queen of Scotts and PN Quinn

GF was in a pretty funny mood one night.

Not sure what got him going, but we had to sign for the trailer (not that anyone was counting anything but the cigarettes that were on it).

One night he decided to sign the trailer "Mary, Queen of Scots"!!! That wasn't so bad and we forgot about it - HA HA, and we went on our merry way.

2 or 3 days later, the home office calls the store looking for the gal that signed for the trailer that night. Ironically the girl working the courtesy counter that night was named Mary!

Here's what I recall of the exchange:
Office: Yeah, can I talk to the girl who signed for the trailer Monday night?
Mary: No girl signed for the trailer - only the guys pull the trailer and sign.
Office: What did you say your name was?
Mary: Mary... why?
Office: Well, the paperwork has your name on it.
Mary: I didn't work on Monday night...
Office: Is there another Mary there?
Mary: Only in the bakery and she's not signing for the trainers either - what's the name on the paperwork?
Office: Mary - Mary Queen of Scots
Mary: (laughing histerically) - ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?
Office: What?
Mary: She's DEAD! You've been had! (still laughing)

Mary: (over the PA system) - GF, come to the courtesy counter or dial 91... (still laughing)....

Mary was a good sport and took our shit really well.

Another name commonly used was QUINN... Mr. PN QUINN

What do you want - we were goofy! :-)

Dickless Tracy

There was a female security person who would "visit" our store from time to time. Naturally we named her "Dickless Tracy". I think her name was Marge if I recall.

One year, there was a butcher strike and we would bust up pallets for the butchers to put in a 55 gallon drum to start a fire to keep themselves warm on the picket line. Needless to say, Dickless Tracy didn't like that too much.

One night, Nicky (you remember him from the garage partys?) left a bit of a "love note" for Marge - I forgot what it said but she went absolutely ballistic and lauched some sort of an investigation. They never could prove who wrote it and eventually she called off the dogs, but we had to stay pretty low-key through the rest of the strike because after that they had undercover cops and security in our store almost the entire time!

We all loved Marge - otherwise we never would have given her such a wonderful nickname! If you had a nickname from the DAWGS, you know you had arrived!

Pulling the Trailer...

A few nights a week I'd pull the trailer - unload the pallets of merchandise, pull it to the sales floor and spot it for the night crew to stock the shelves. HARD WORK because we didn't have power jacks at the time - nothing but your two legs and your back!

Usually there were 2 or 3 people working it and one or 2 would pull the pallets and the 3rd would spot or if there were only two, then one would unload and the 2nd would spot on the floor.
There were times we would be delayed because the trailer wasn't there yet when we were ready to start. Those nights sucked! GF would go nuts and we would have to haul ass to get the work done.

Hard work and a lot of fun too - we were always joking and having a good time. There were times where we'd get done so fast that we'd be able to kick back and relax with a six-pack on the loading dock. Great on a hot summer night back east.

Coming soon - Pulling the Trailer with Mary Queen of Scots and PN Quinn

Nicky's Garage - Part I

One of the guys that worked at The Tombs was named Nicky. Self-described ladies man, but 100% wise ass.

I knew Nicky from grammar school and he was always a character.

He hooked up with the Dawgs at the store sometime after the rest of the crew had started. Friday nights and some Saturdays after work, we'd head to his place to just hang out in the garage, drink like mad and have a lot of laughs.

There were times when afterward, we would go out and get something to eat - it's about 3am by this time and some of us need to be back at the store for a 6 or 7am shift the next morning!

Talking to BB on the phone a few weeks ago, and we still wonder what would happen if we go to the liquor store, buy all the beer we could and just go ring the doorbell to that house and ask if we can "rent" the garage for a few hours - just to relive those old days. What could happen???

Hell - the new owner of the house can drink with us!

Fear and Loathing on Saturdays

Saturday was a rough day - all hands on deck as it were.


Busy day filled with long lines, price changes and all other kinds of fun. There were some Saturdays where you would literally spend 3 hours bagging for a slow cashier and couldn't get your own shit done!


The worst was if you were on Jack's shit-list. He'd give you the fucking baby food AND the tomato sauce to do price changes on. You had to be fast to do those both in the same day. LF and GF were 2 of the best for that.


Breaks and lunch were usually fun IF you could get some of the other guys to go at the same time.


I remember one lunch break we went to a local Burger King and LF was giving the woman at the counter some shit (as he always would). The exchange went something like this:


LF: I'll have a cheeseburger - hold the cheese
Woman: Huh?
LF: I'll have a cheeseburger - hold the cheese
Woman: Just tell me what you want, please
LF: OK just a regular hamburger
Woman: Anything else?
LF: Fries
Woman: Anything to drink?
LF: Whadda ya got?
Woman: Coke, Sprite, etc, etc
LF: Just water
Woman: Is that it?
LF: Can I have some extra ketchup?
Woman: How much do you want?
LF: HOW MUCH CAN YOU HOLD?


He'd do this on occasion - picking another innocent "victim" at random and just raz the shit out of them - sometimes until they were to the point of tears. Usually we were all in tears because we were laughing so damn hard.


LF has a gift - and he still uses it to this day.

Carmine in Produce

What can you say about Carmine?

He was fat, talked with an accent (Italian) and was calling EVERYONE 'pardner' (you gotta imagine the that with the accent.

Nice guy, but we usually recommended the girls in the store keep clear of him... he thought himself quite the ladies man, but whoa!

He always had a funny story to tell and Saturdays were the best day to catch him because he would usually have an audience. Hell - we all worked on Saturday because that was the day we did the price changes (remember - this was pre-scanner days so we did them manually).

Carmine would talk your ear off if you let him. His stories always were sprinkled with colorful language ("fucking this" and "shit that"). For all I know, he wound up writing for the Sopranos - hell, he talked the language!

Up next, "Fear and Loathing on Saturday Mornings".

Jack

Jack was the grocery manager at The Tombs. He was a scruffy, skinny little shit, tough as nails and drove a big, gold Lincoln Continental. Far too big for his little body.

He was a nut. He'd flip you off at the drop of a hat.

I remember being at the store at some point during my first week of work - still training on the register - and I was on my break, sitting outside drinking a soda. He was coming in, walking through the parking lot and as he got closer to me he just smiled, flipped me the bird and kept right on walking.

I had a feeling I was gonna like this guy just because he didn't give a shit - he came in, got the work done and that was that. Don't piss him off though - if you did your work you got to stay on his good side. He was a good man and reminded me of a cross between Hunter S. Thomson and a rabid pitbull.

The Tombs

The store affectionately became known as "The Tombs"... why? I'm not really sure. I think BB came up with that one.

It was a place where before we all started working there, we knew very well. In the fall and winter, we'd be there in the parking lot playing football for a few hours. We carved out a corner of the lot and just played. Shopping carts were the endzones, we already had the lines and we played in an area that cars usually didn't park in anyway because it was too far to walk.

We didn't bother anyone and we put the carts back when we were done.

Didn't matter how cold it got in winter - I swear it was 20 below zero with the wind one night and we were all out there playing - we were a strange lot.

When we were done we'd go inside, buy some soda or something and head back to someone's house to warm up. What a blast.

It wasn't a big store by today's standards. I don't even know how many people actually worked there. We all started out running the old mechanical registers - you remember those? You actually had to use your freakin' BRAIN to calculate the tax yourself and make the change yourself - the register didn't tell you like it does today.

As time went on, we all moved to other areas in the store. I "did time" in grocery, produce, dairy, night-crew and others. BB went on to actually become a closing manager. LF and GF moved to different stores. Others came and went, but there was always that core - that main group of people that ultimately became THE DAWGS...

In the Beginning...

Take it back to 1981... Reganomics, high school crap, delivering newspapers for $$, hockey teams, pissing off the football team by seeing a cheerleader from another school... Those were the days!

It's here that the tale begins - BB lands a job at the supermarket (henceforth known as "THE TOMBS"). Within what seemed like 2 weeks, there were about 5 of us working there from the same tight group.

BB brings in JA who brings in AC. At some point AG shows up along with SC (who's sister was there and was a looker). Already there are GF and LF (brothers) and some of the girls that worked there were OUTSTANDING! Never-mind what we used to do in the summer!

"Clean up in aisle 8!" was an all-points bulletin used only between Memorial Day and Labor Day to call all the guys working there to the frozen food aisle because there was some hot 16 - 30 year old babe there.

The Tombs were like a second home to a lot of us - we'd be there after school, we'd be there on the weekends, we'd be there overnight in the summer working the night shift.

Early on there was the rest of the cast of characters:

Mel in Produce

Mike in Dairy ("buddddd")

Carmine in Produce ("Hey pardner...")

Angelo

Harry

and the ever popular Fred - the store manager

Not sure where some of them are, but all of us were the original DAWGS... never has a supermarket been so much fun! Stay tuned for some of the exploits of this brave and depraved bunch of young studs...

The Litter is Born

The Dawgs are a tight-knit bunch of guys and gals that worked at an east coast supermarket a long time ago in a simpler time; before 9/11, before parents had to fear for their kids playing outside, before a lot of the ugly bullshit that's happening in the world today.

Names and places may be changed to protect the guilty. Only the Dawgs really know for sure... Store #557 was another family for many of us.

Note that these postings are from a relatively alcohol damaged memory and some things may seem fuzzy - but that's OK - it may be funnier that way!!!

Bare with me through the evolution of this blog - it could take some time...