I do not think any of his customers read this, but yet I am compelled to express my experience nonetheless.
First, it was obviously out of the social Orland order for me to even be there. The other customers and whomever is the large, carbuncular, gravelled voice man behind the counter certainly glanced quickly, quizzically, and quippily turned a shoulder. I was happy to look around because the store reminded me of many of the independent stores in the outer Mission of San Francisco and brought back memories of my younger adulthood in that great City. Plus, where else are saucer sized corn tortillas? I was also hungry.
The large man said "What do are looking for?" with subversive irritation rolling just under his tongue and clenched in his fists, as I had walked all the way around the store and through every isle. I said "I am just browsing". He said, squishing up his big, textured, brown face, "Just 'brownie-ing'?!". I said, no, "just browsing. It means I am just looking around, not sure what I want.". He snorted with incredulity and so I went to the pastry cabinet where most Mexican stores have multi-colored and shaped baked goods/breads. Oh, I do remember kindly all the inexpensive treats in the Mission one could get on a Sunday morning.
Here, though, there was a cockroach inside on the cabinet glass. I walked a few steps away and then a woman stepped up to the glass cabinet doors and I silently pointed to the cockroach. In Spanish, she told the man "Cockroach" and pointed to it. He came out from behind the counter, opened the glass case, smashed the cockroach with his bare hand against the glass, smearing the cockroach's remains down the glass. That which was adhered to his hand, he wiped on the little counter just below the glass doors. He shut the glass door, snorting with satisfaction, and then lumbered back to his cash register post.
Not able to hide my offense, I quickly bought a $1.39 coffee and to everyone's relief I left and left the coffee on the outside table where some Hispanic Man was sitting eating something he had bought, work boots on, thermos in hand, cooler at his feet--waiting for a ride to go work very hard somewhere all day. My thought was "these people deserve better than that, I wonder if they know.". But, that is a thought to remain in my mind forever and never to be returned to Moes Market in Orland. read more
