The Epic of Brick McBain, Part II: Return of a Legend

    Outside of the store, the parking lot bustled with activity.  Each artery was clogged with motorists prowling for a vacant spot, dodging both civilians with arms full of groceries and uniformed Bag Men alike.  Simply put: it was a zoo. Shopping carts filled the Cart Corrals and spilled over onto every median in the lot, and eventually, Kroger had to send two clerks out to retrieve them.  After all, in a crisis like this, shopping carts were four-wheeled gold.  He picked two men to send out into "The Shit," as the vets called it.  He needed men he could trust to clear the lot quickly and report back to The Rack.
     For Kroger, the choice was easy: Frank McBuggy.  McBuggy, the old warhorse of the crew, was a clean cut bagger at 20 years old.  He had been serving the Front End since he enlisted at age 16 and had dealt with many days just like today.  Everything about McBuggy screamed, "old school"...from his ironed and neatly-tucked shirt and crisp apron to his command of The Rack, his ability to plan the order as he unloaded carts onto the conveyor belt, and his "by the book" approach to bagmanship.  He carried out his duties faithfully and with military precision.
    Yes, Kroger could trust McBuggy, but who would he choose to accompany this old pro out into The Shit? He scanned his front end and settled on the young up-and-comer, Ted Applebee.
     Applebee was a fresh-faced 16 year old.  A tad on the squirrely side, he maintained a low profile, preferring to leave most of the flashy bagging to his elders.  He had only been with the company for a few months and was still learning the craft, but he had a lot of upside, and the veterans respected his work ethic and respect for bagging traditions and insititutions.  It was often said of Applebee that he "played the game the right way."
     After receiving his mission, McBuggy put his hand on his protege's shoulder, and said quietly, "It's time." With a gulp and a nervous nod of his head, Applebee began to tighten his apron strings.  With that, the men made their way into the lot.
     Siezing a brief moment's respite on their journey through the foyer, Applebee began to make small talk with his hero.
     "I heard Mr. Shackleford is calling up everyone on the payroll to come in today," he said, as he dodged civilians, too busy reading their shopping lists to notice a Bag Man on a Bag Mission. "I've even heard he's calling Brick McBain.  Is it true what they say about him? I mean, are the stories true?"
     "Yeah," said McBuggy, "it's mostly true.  Everyone hero worships the guy, but I don't like his bagging.  It's not safe.  It's not conventional.  It's not efficient. It's against everything the store preaches."
     "Even so," said Applebee, "I've heard stories about the way he took charge during Hurricane Brian Benben back in '08..."
     "Enough!" cried an exasperated McBuggy.  "I might have to deal with this cocky shithead today, but I don't have to sit here and listen to you kiss his ass!"
     With that, Mcbuggy broke to the other side of the parking lot.  He stopped halfway, grabbed a cart, and kicked at a piece of trash on the ground. Through a deep sigh, he muttered, "sonofabitch.  Here we go again."
________________________________________________________________________________

     Inside the store the chaos continued.  Managers were stocking, stockers were bagging, and baggers were just trying to hold the whole damn thing together.
     After frantically searching for a price, then bagging a huge order, then being asked to go help restock the bread aisle, one rookie bagger had had enough. Panic and frustration were evident on the young man's face as he ripped off his standard-issue apron and threw it on the ground.  He began hyperventilating, and he screamed through each desperate breath:
     "I...can't...t-t-take it! I...never....signed......I never signed on for this! I....QUIT!"
     "Damnit!" exclaimed veteran cashier Sally Skanzulot. "Another one! That's 3 today.  We can't keep up! Just close the doors, Rusty! We're done!"
     Just then, a booming voice rang across the front of the store.
     "Done?!" asked the scruffy, baritone voice. "Turkeys are done, people are finished, but Bag Men? Well, Bag Men just keep on cookin'!"
      Everyone on the front end, civilians and uniformed personnel alike, looked over to the north lobby, half-expecting to see Clint Eastwood's Blonde Drifter character holding a stick of dynamite. What they saw was much, much more awesomely intimidating.
     They were treated to the silhouette of a man about 6 feet tall.  His hair was shaggy and suggested that he was unkempt, but each step he took from the shadows towards the customer service desk screamed, "confidence." The unshaved Bag Man had a medium build with chiseled features and a prominent jawline.  As he stepped back into The Show, his eyes twinkled with the excitement of a quarterback facing the capacity crowd at a Super Bowl. 
      One could hear a pin drop as he walked towards the counter and grabbed the assignment clipboard.  All eyes were on him as he surveyed the situation with the knowing gaze of a seasoned professional.
      From the far side of the front end, Ted Applebee broke the silence.
      "It's McBain.  He's...he's back. He's really here."
     "In the flesh, young buck," said McBain. "I understand you shiny badges needed a little help today."
      Johnny Kroger walked up with a half-cocked smile that betrayed the relief and excitement he felt at seeing his old friend.
      "Kroger." said McBain. "Whadda we got."
      "A first class shit-storm, Brick," replied the almost star-struck manager. "But before we tackle it, Shackelford needs to talk to you in his office."
_________________________________________________________________________________

Coming Soon: Part III: Bricks and Stones May Break My Bones, But Paper Bags Will Never Hurt Me

The Epic of Brick McBain: Paper, Plastic, or Justice? Part 1

IN 2005, I was asked to write a fiction piece for a Magazine Writing course as part of the Journalism program at GSU.  Panicked, I decided to go with what I know. 

Ladies and Gentlmen, enter my sick, sick mind, and meet Brick McBain: Bagging Hero:

    People moved to Wilmington Island, GA for the relaxed, laid back pace of life that it offered its residents, but today that easygoing spirit was replaced by one of apprehension and an almost tangible fear.  The sky had been growing darker and more ominous as the day progressed, with gray clouds swirling and racing overhead.  Throughout the normally sleepy town, flags stood stiff at the apex of their poles.  Cars clogged the island's main arteries and the wail of horns filled the air as motorists inched along Johnny Mercer Boulevard towards their destinations.

     Inside the local supermarket, the panicked citizens flooded the aisles and piled nonperishable food items in their carts.  Can foods, bottled water, batteries, matches, candles...legions of apron-clad stock clerks tried in vain to keep the shelves adequately supplied of these staple items.  The National Weather Service had just issued a hurricane warning a few hours earlier, and Wilmington Island sat square in the center of the warning area. Hurricane Penelope was on the way, and the grocery store run was in full effect.

     Every register had lines stretching nearly to the back of the store, and the incessant moans of the cash registers added to the anxiety of an already tense situation.

    "BEEP!" they cried after each scanned item, literally hundreds of times per minute.  "BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!"
  
    Each cry of the scanners represented one item that had to be rung up, bagged, and ultimately restocked.  The orders began to pile up at the end of each register, and the cashiers were engaged in the fight of their grocery-store lives trying to keep up.

      "Get on the phone and get our entire front end staff up here!" yelled store manager Rusty Shackleford.  "Hurricane be damned, we've already got a Cat 5 in here, and we're gonna need everyone we've got if we're gonna hold back the flood waters of dissapointing shopping experiences!"

     The wily veteran Johnny Kroger nodded at his boss' command as he hastily eyed his scheduling clipboard, the truest companion of any Front End Manager. Kroger was of slight stature.  His curly black locks made him look more the part of a jam band enthusiast than a Grocery Store Leader, but he was a wily veteran, and he lived for weather scares like this.  As he scanned through his schedule, he realized that every employee he had was either on hand or on the way.  All except for one.

     "Boss," said Kroger from behind the customer service desk. "Do you want me to call EVERYONE? Even...well, even employees who are on suspension?"

    "Damn it, Kroger! We both know there's only one employee on suspension right now, and I don't have time for his showboating today," Shackleford shot back angrily.

     Kroger, normally hesitant to question Rusty's snap leadership decisions, quickly scanned his devastated front end. Customers were throwing their hands up as they waited in seemingly endless lines.  Shopping carts were as scarce as springs in the desert.  Frustrated baggers ran hopelessly from register to register, packaging like mad men.

     "Mr. Shackleford, I know that this is not the ideal situation for his return. But, damn it, sir, there's only one Bag Man who can pull us back from the brink of this hurricane-spawned grocery store nightmare.  The others look to him as a leader.  Look, I know you don't like his rogue bagging methods, and, hell, most of the time, I don't either...but there's no denying what the man can do behind a bag rack," said Kroger.

     Shackleford, a stout, middle-aged man with a receding hair line that could only belong to a retail managment lifer, stared intensely at the scheduling clipboard.  With laser-like focus, he ran every possible staffing scenario through his head.  After a few moments, moments which seemed like an eternity to Kroger, a look of hopelessness came across his pale face.

     "Johnny, is anyone cross-trained? I mean, is there anyone we can call?" asked the embattled manager.

     "Sir, as I see it, no. There isn't."

     Kroger saw the look of defeat on his manager's face.

     "Fine. Do it. Make the call. But when he comes in, send him to my office. We're going to have a little chat before he dons this apron again."  With that, Shackleford took several quick paces to his office and slammed the door.

     Kroger ran to the phone and began furiously punching the numbers that he knew so well.  A smirk came across his face as the ringback played.

"Here we go."  Moments later. "It's me. Yes. Code Red.  As soon as possible."

STAY TUNED TO MEET OUR HERO IN PART 2