The sheriff's tale

[offcntr]

I did my annual Holiday Market work shift Saturday morning. Vendors each do one shift a year (or forfeit a $25 deposit). I like to do morning security. I hang out by the side door, near to my booth, hold it open for vendors, help bring in their stock if need be, and keep the random public from wandering in before we open.

Market keeps a small stock of toy badges for us to wear, but I prefer to pin mine on a bear. Reminds me of Poul Anderson and Gordon Dickson's The Sheriff of Canyon Gulch, which always makes me smile. When vendors address me with a "Howdy, Sheriff!" I can point out that, in fact, this is the sheriff; I'm just the deputy.

Around 9:13 am, a car pulls up and the driver rolls down his window and calls out, "What time do you open?" He doesn't hear my "10 o'clock," so I walk out and repeat myself. "Okay, then, it says 10:13 here," he says, pointing to his dashboard clock. "No, I"m afraid you're still on daylight time," I say, "It's only quarter after nine." "But it says 10:13," he insists, while his wife tries to show him the correct time on her phone.

"Well, can we just come in anyway, and look around quietly?" No, you really can't. "Why not? Everything's legal now that you people elected Biden."

Oh, that got strange fast. I try to explain that, in fact, as a private organization, Saturday Market has the right to set our own operating hours, while he keeps repeating "Everything's legal now." So I give up and go back to my door while he shouts, "Don't you walk away from me!" I ignore him and go inside, and eventually he rolls up his window and drives off.

Twenty minutes later, a different guy comes up. He's on foot, in a yellow rain jacket and home-made mask, incorporating what looks like a piece of pillow case sewn into a structure of white athletic socks, providing the elastic to hold it on. (In contrast, car guy had no mask, and a Navy ball cap.) He asks me what time the Market opens.

"10 o'clock," I say. "I thought it opened at 9, like the downtown Market," he replies. "No, actually, the Saturday Market also opens at 10. Farmers Market opens at 9," I explain. "Oh! I guess I connect those two in my mind," he says. "I guess I'll just puddle around for a while, then." I observe that it's a lovely morning for walkies--the sun was just coming out, and we're right on the Amazon canal. He agrees, and says he appreciates that I appreciate that.

"Thanks for the extra 18 minutes," he says to me.

Comments

[james]

People!

in a painted squirrel's nutshell

[chefxh]

That is a pretty acute description of America in 2021.