Sands of Time

So this last couple weeks have been a frenzy of preparation for the CAU Holiday Sale. (along with preparations for SC in Austin and Christmas in Hawaii [although Debbie is mostly handling Hawaii*])
Anyway, I had list after list of things that I needed to remember to handle taking up little bits of paper in my pockets, among which was a note to get some butchers paper in which to wrap the sales.*** I remembered from a past life where I worked in a book bindery that they used to give out the ends of the rolls of paper (endrolls –clever, eh?) to people who wanted them. I thought that as it was a greener time recycling places may have worked deals with them, but I hauled myself on over anyway.
I walked in to an empty reception area and caught the eye of a guy standing in the hall. He looked familiar, but for me, who doesn’t? As he walked up I started to say, “I used to work here a long time ago and remembered you used to give out endrolls.” No sooner did I say this than my brain clicked and I recoginzed one of the women standing in the hall as one of the girls who ran the collator when I worked there. Time did that funny thing where it rubber-bands back to an earlier time and flashes around for a minute. Suddenly it was 20-ish years ago when I worked there all the guys would have chased her, but she was queen of the ‘you creep’ stare down. She was one of those girls who wouldn’t give anyone the time of day. I asked her once, because I really wondered what time it was. She gave me the look, turned and walked away. I knew she was out of my league, I really just wanted to know the time.
Then time snapped back and the weight of two decades whalluped me. I was completely floored that someone I still knew worked there, the job just wasn’t that promising. She still had the same haircut even, and I would have been hard pressed to admit they weren’t the exact same clothes when last I saw her, so maybe change wasn’t her thing. The guy I started talking to told me to drive around to the loading dock, “you remember where that is, right?” I had to admit I didn’t because the old printing house is now a strip club a few blocks away. They moved a few years after the bindery and I parted ways. He told me where it was and I beat a hasty retreat. I don’t know if I could have withstood another timefugue.
I picked up three rolls of good paper. I’ve got to remember to check out more production cast-offs for supplies more often.
* good thing I didn’t need to subreference again**
** doh!
*** if any