I worked with the juice guys today, a full six and a half hour day. I entered a physical inventory into Quickbooks. For those of you lucky enough not to work in accounting, let me explain. The office manager took a physical inventory. She had a ten page Excel spreadsheet with all the juice machines and parts that could possibly be in the warehouse. She counted the pieces that were actually there, filling in the sheet as she went. A lot of the product is shipped directly from the manufacturer so there really isn’t much that is physically in the building. But, just because it’s not there doesn’t mean you don’t enter it. You have to put the part number in, then a zero.
So for six and a half hours, I entered the part number, hit tab, entered the quantity, including the zeros, then hit tab/tab/tab. Next line, next part number, next quantity tab/tab/tab. Yes people, I went to college for this. Thank God it was back when college cost less, my student loan payment after graduation was thirty five dollars a month, and Pell grants really did put a dent in your tuition payment.
After four and a half hours of this, my shoulders ached, my left wrist tingled (the tab/tab/tab hand). Carpel Tunnel Syndrome was setting in. I thought there was a hair across the computer screen. I wiped the screen. Maybe it’s behind my reading glasses. I took the glasses off, inspected them, wiped them with a paper napkin. I discover it’s a floater. Now I may have eye problems.
I take a walk to CVS to run an errand, continue on to McDonald’s to get an ice coffee. I break down, add a cheeseburger and small fries to the order. I can’t remember the last time I ate at McDonald’s. I like the new decor in this one. They’re trying for a hip coffee house vibe. Two young black men are sound asleep on the fancy leather armchairs in the corner. An old woman with a walker tries to open the door. She just crossed in front of the take-out window line and almost got hit by a car. I open the door for her. She’s laughing. “I went out the wrong door,” she said.
Flat screen TV’s can be viewed from all the seating. CNN is on. There is a new theory about Princess Diana’s death. The British military could have been involved. Forever 21 stores are laying off full time employees. This must have to do with health insurance. Do I need to talk about health insurance again today? Because I really don’t want to, it’s raising my blood pressure and making me sick to my stomach. The errand to CVS was to refill my blood pressure meds, so please, let’s not go down that road today.
I return to finish the inventory. Two hours later, I am free. I run another errand at the bank on the corner of Federal Highway and Woolbright Avenue in Boynton Beach. A bridge crosses the intracoastal within walking distance of here. The shopping plaza is called Riverwalk Center. Could this mean there is a walking path along the intracoastal? Maybe they’re just keeping it on the down low by calling the intracoastal a river. I always thought it was the intercoastal anyway. Everything’s so confusing in Florida. Someone recently said, “You’ve moved to South Florida, you no longer live in America.” He may have been right. I run in the bank, take care of business, then walk over the bridge. I scope out the situation. It appears there could be a small sidewalk, about a quarter mile at most. I’m on it.
I walk back over the bridge, cross the parking lot. It’s hot, heat radiates off the cars that pass by. I walk underneath the awnings of a sushi restaurant, an Italian cafe, a pet store and a Fedex mail center. I am looking forward to the cool shade on the tiny path along the intracoastal.
I get to the back of the shopping plaza, where the dumpsters and loading docks are. This could be promising. This just may be the way it is in Florida, they hide the intracoastal walking trails in the back of shopping plazas.
My spirits lift. Could this be it? Have I found it?
No such luck.
It could be tricky walking along this narrow wall, dodging the overgrown hedge. I don’t want to fall in and cut myself on the shopping cart. That would be just my luck. Good thing I’m still able to make those COBRA payments. I got a tetanus shot before I moved here. If Obamacare gets ripped to shreds by the Republicans and I can no longer afford health insurance, at least the tetanus shot will be good for ten years.
I walk back through the parking lot, feeling stupid and slightly crazy. It’s as if someone gave me an assignment, find an impossible task and write about it. So I choose walking paths along the intracoastal. Sounds easy enough, I already knew of one. Little did I know that might be the only one. A valet from the Prime Catch restaurant runs by to get someone’s car. He gives me a strange look.
Oh great, now I’m going to get arrested for simply taking a walk.
I am beginning to realize this may be the only place to see the intracoastal, a cocktail the price of admission.
Once again, I abort the search.
My favorite spot to view the intracoastal is the Old Key Lime House. It has the added cachet of Ernest Hemingway having pissed there.