I don't really know any extra stuff. About anything, or at least what comes to mind. I don't know anything extra about my job, besides what the other people already know, who have been working the same time as me.
It was the same at the bank. I didn't know the extra stuff, unless you were the new guy, then of course I knew more than you. Or the hospital, I really didn't know any extra stuff, unless you were that new girl with freckles and red hair. Then I knew a couple things. She could follow me around and I could teach her a couple things, even though I knew I was quitting shortly, and hadn't told anyone. That is why they let me be a teacher, I guess. But really besides the usual stuff, I wanted to grab that poor little girl by the shoulders and say, "If a man has a blood pressure of 78/45, that is when it is time to tell the nurse. Never forget this, even if you are babysitting and watching Moulin Rouge at 3 in the morning. Go tell the nurse." And this is the part when I would have leaned in closer to tell her, "Don't trust or like Angela. If you hit your head on a TV, she won't even care. Even if you're bleeding." And she would have looked me in the eyes and said, "I have never met an Angela that I liked, yet."

But besides that I never learned extra stuff about how girls do their hair, or what parts of the country are really nice to see, or how to poach an egg the right way. I don't even usually look up my favorite bands to see what they do in their free time, or where they were born and who they are dating. But I hope, when it's all said and done that I know a tiny bit about everything. Like, enough.

"Kaleb, you said you left? And here you are! Are you lying? Are you a liar?"
"Are your pants on fire?"
"Do your parents know about this?"

I have moments, usually near the pastry case, where I forget that I am at work, and I just think that I am always at Starbucks. That I just exist at Starbucks for long periods of time during my week, and for this, money shows up in my bank under my name.

Sometimes it just gets to the point in the day where you say, oh darn it. I've had too much drugs, and where did my arms go?
And then there is a moment where you get a lot of product in your hair, and it looks like you have cut it in the last six months, and you want all your friends to see, but it's gone in five minutes. It was just a dream.
And if you are a happy or nice person where you work, sometimes these people will come back to you. Days on, and you don't know who they are but they are vaguely familiar. A wife will say to her husband, staring, do you know this girl? And he says, "why yes I come through the drive through on Tuesdays and she serves me coffee." And you don't even know that you are part of someone else's schedule, accidentally. Today even, a mediocre woman says to me, "Are you the one who answered the box? My daughter wants you to be her mother. She says she thinks you have a very nice voice and that you would let her get away with things." But either way, when you do all these things by accident, it leads to better tips which is why I'm still here.

I forgot Jessie's laugh. How she sounds a little like Bart from the Simpsons. She came into our store today, and it made me miss a multitude of things, but I miss her silly laugh.

And my questions left over from today are,
where do you go when you are unconscious? It is not sleep, for sure. And it is not dead either. So where is it?

And if you had to die at a store, which one would you pick.

This is how I know, that the twelve year old boy Noah, who lives in my house, is actually my brother and not a baby my parents found in the mountains being raised by wolves.

He comes home from an orthodontist appointment at 8:45am and says to my sisters, let's make mac 'n cheese. And they are saying, Noah, it is nine o clock in the morning, but I almost say, if you make some mac 'n cheese I will eat it.

That, and the fact that I was around when he was born.