Anthropological Field Notes of the Butcher Shop

January 5th, 2017, Day 77: (The customers think I am someone who knows something about meat. I am still someone who knows nothing about meat.)

10:00: I arrive to prepare for opening time (11:00 AM)

10:05: A cute old man hobbles through the door that we forgot to lock. Normally I am annoyed by people who barge into the shop early with no regard for our hours, but in this instance I think, “Oh how sweet,” as I stock the shelves in the corner. He goes directly to the counter and asks the owner for 100 lbs of beef bones. That is a vast quantity to purchase so they discuss that for several minutes. Suddenly, from directly behind me, I hear an approximately 85 year-old-voice say, “I bet you’re from Livingston Parish aren't you?” “Ah!” I exclaim, “Oh…hi sir…sorry, no, I am from here.” Clearly referencing my backside, he replies, “Well, you have a body type I’ve only ever seen before in Livingston Parish, so maybe one of your ancestors was smart enough to move here.” He continues trying to talk to me about my body until I make the excuse that we need more beer from the back.

I now could actually use the beer though. “That will surely be the worst thing that happens to me today,” I think to myself.

11:02: A man in his 60’s walks in right as we open and leans fully onto the counter I am standing behind, edging it slightly towards me. He starts talking to me like he thinks my mouth is a microphone and smiles smugly at everything he says. He asks to try every kind of sausage we have, and then doesn’t eat half of them before leaving, purchasing nothing.

11:03: A woman from a magazine calls for my boss. My boss shakes his head emphatically when I try to pass him the phone. I tell her, “So sorry, he’s elbow-deep in a pig right now, haha! He’ll have to call you back.” We share a laugh.

11:12: A church woman who has tricked my boss into donating a dinner to her charity event by advertising it before he actually agreed to do it, walks into the shop and merrily asks to speak to him. She jovially wanders around the store until he can’t pretend he is not there anymore, and then keeps him talking for 35 minutes.

11:23: A man comes in asking for bacon. He then asks me languidly if he knows me from somewhere. “No sir, I don’t think so.” “Well, what’s your name?” “…Darcy…” “Okay I’ll see you soon Darcy,” he replies with a wink as he leaves.

11:31: A woman walks in and asks if our artisan sandwich specials of the week, complete with very high quality and mouth-watering toppings, are any good. “They’re amazing!” I tell her. “Which one would I like more?” she asks. “Well, I guess that depends on if you’re a roast beef person or a grilled cheese person." “Hmmmmmmm.........Can I get the El Chupacabre with only meat and cheese?” “Just bread, meat, and cheese?” I ask. “Yes.” “Well THAT sandwich is not going to be any good…” I think to myself.

11:47: The Church Woman is still here. She discovers, with a squeal, that one of her cronies has walked into the store. The two of them stand directly in front of my counter for 25 minutes gossiping about all of the donations they’ve coerced out of people for their event. The friend tries to steal someone else’s sandwich order when it comes up.

11:53: The magazine woman calls back. My boss shakes his head emphatically again. I tell her, “Oh gosh, he is just elbow-deep in some boudin dip right now! He’ll have to call you back.” We share a strained chuckle.

12:04: Two rough-looking men walk in bearing six 2x1’ crosses in each hand. One has a dead eye so I can't exactly tell where he's looking. In a very loud and almost incoherent accent, the tall one shouts, “WE ARE RECOVERING ADDICTS THANKS TO OUR LORD AND SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST. WOULD YOU LIKE TO BUY SOME CROSSES FROM US?” The short one hands us pamphlets that also have crosses on them. “No thank you,” replies my coworker. “Okay,” says the tall one, “then can I have a free hat? How about a T-Shirt?”

1:32: A couple comes in smelling so strongly of cat pee that every other customer retreats to the farthest corners of the shop or leaves. They are regular customers.

2:00: The magazine woman calls back. I tell her, “oh man, my boss is just covered in beef fat at the moment, but he can meet with you on Tuesday at 3:00.” “Wonderful!” She exclaims. (My boss then tells me he does not plan to be in the shop on Tuesday at 3:00.)

4:47: A woman walks in asking if we have any prepared food. “Well ma’am, we are a butcher shop so we mostly sell raw meat. However, we do have lunch specials, and some gumbo in our cooler, as well as beef jerky, bourbon pâté, boudin dip, and a variety of smoked sausages.” “But I don’t WANT to cook ANYTHING. I’m so HUNGRY.” “…Well, like I said, we do have gumbo, you’d just have to heat it up.” “Is there any rice in it?” “No, just the gumbo.” “But I don’t WANT to cook any rice!” My coworker, under his breath: “maybe you should try a restaurant then…”

5:45: A very frustrated man calls the store, exclaiming, “I don’t know what I want!!” he demands to know the pricing for a cut of meat that he would like in inches, as he doesn’t know how many pounds he wants, only what pot he wants to fit it in. I explain to him that we sell all of our meat by the pound, so I can’t really tell him prices by inches. “Well I just know how many inches I want it to be!!!!” "I’ll have one of our butchers call you back tomorrow, sir.”

6:00: Closing Time.

6:45: A small Asian man with a very thick accent and dangerously trendy haircut bangs on our door for the third night in a row after closing. My coworker goes to answer, and, for the third time in three nights, tells him that we close at 6:00 pm. Then, for the third time, he tells him, “no we only sell sandwiches from 11:00-2:00 and we never have sandwiches at night.” Finally, for the third time, he tells him that the fact that the trendy man wakes up at 7:00 pm is unfortunate, because our shop is not open at 7:00 pm. The man grumbles, “Oh great so I came down here for nothing then??? Can’t you just make me a sandwich??”