Work Text:
There was a certain... pleasure to be found in making things fit. Calculating weight, shape, size and the needs of the individual in order to make the most effective use of space in the least amount of necessary time.
Renfield was particularly popular among the stereotypical Little Old Ladies.
Bagging groceries was not what he planned on doing for the rest of his life, but it was something to keep himself busy with until he was finished with the various and sundry things he had to do to get hired into the RCMP. Tests, assessments, a polygraph, a background check, the PARE... there were quite a few hurdles and then quite a lot of waiting, and he needed to do something in the meantime. Bagging groceries it was.
It wasn't a mindless job. It didn't require a great deal of deep thought, of course, but it wasn't mindless and he was perfectly content working six hours on his feet, figuring out the best way to package various food objects. The Little Old Ladies liked him simply because he was quite good at balancing the weight of the bags with the number so that they required less help once they got home. Of course, he always helped them to their cars. Of course, they always tried to tip him. And, of course, he always refused.
It wasn't a mindless job, but it did feel like standing on the brink. Most of the time, he was simply moving forward with his life, doing what he had to do. But on occasion, the dichotomy between 'grocery bagger' and 'police officer' became perfectly clear and that was when he felt as though he were standing on the edge of a precipice and staring into something so large that it was almost difficult to look at.
Those moments became more frequent the closer that he got. Through interviews, he sometimes wondered if it was the current grocery bagger or the future police officer answering questions. Through his second PARE, he wondered if it was bagging groceries that allowed him to effectively and quickly assess the best way through the course. Through the background check, he wondered if they would go to the store and question the Little Old Ladies.
It wasn't that he feared any of that. He had done his best, all of his life, to be the best child that he could be. He would continue to try to be the best man that he could be.
Perhaps that was the dichotomy.
The whole world shifted again with his troop assignment, when he would report to Regina, and he gave notice to his employer that he wouldn't be bagging groceries for much longer. Then, the dichotomy became the every day; standing on the edge and entirely aware of it, enough that it made his breath a little short. Staring at something so large that it truly was difficult to look at.
Waiting.
On his last day, he hung up his green apron. Passed a hand down it. Said goodbye to the other employees, and walked out of the double doors, one more grocery bagger to move onto something else.
Leaping with both eyes open.