Roses

 

I sometimes go to stores in areas of the city where folks are struggling with the day-to-day.

I stopped in the Roses discount store in the shopping center along that stretch of West Beltline between Two Notch and Farrow roads to get some eye drops.

(Roses was founded in Henderson, North Carolina, more than 100 years ago, and has been in various stages of decline and revitalization for the past 40 years. Since the dawn of the Walmart age.)

The Beltline store, the only one in Columbia, appeared to be fairly well-stocked and selling the usual mix of housewares and furniture components, bedding, over-the-counter pharmaceuticals, pantry staples, "pimp art," ethnic fashions with African prints, lots of clothes for babies and children.

The store was busy around 2. I saw only one white customer while I was there. About half of the patrons were masked; none of the store workers were.

Not all of the items on the shelves were priced. Many products were heavily discounted, some sold for one dollar. One lady discovered that the price of Tide laundry detergent had gone up about a buck and half since she was in last. She sighed.

Most of the shelves bore stickers indicating an inventory count was underway. That would account for the large number of workers in the store, nearly as many as the shoppers.

Although some customers strolled with rolling carts, most patrons did as I did and toted items in their arms. This added to the irritation for some folks as check-out lines began closing down.

The lady in front of me with the intricate braids and tassel knee-high boots asked every blue-shirted worker she saw if they were about to open another register.

"No, I'm going home," they said, one after another.

The young woman behind me, masked and carrying two pairs of slacks on hangers, complained that a half-dozen workers were milling about outside the store manager's door. They didn't seem to care the lines were long.

"I heard they think somebody's trying to steal," she added.

"They won't catch them standing together over there," I offered, with a chuckle.

Finally at the register, I greeted the clerk cheerfully, trying not to add to his burden. I lined up my scouring powder, multi-purpose spray cleanser and Jesus and Mary votive candles; they didn't carry the brand of eye drops I needed.

He double-bagged my items, which I took as a token of appreciation -- although it may have spoken more to the quality of the bags -- and wished me a good rest of my day.