The Real Har Mar Superstar

Semisonic’s melancholy anthem “Closing Time” plays while Steve finishes up his last night as a security guard at HarMar Mall. This is almost too good to be true, he thinks to himself.

     The unsung hero gazes at his reflection in the Famous Footwear window. He’s kept in great shape, he’s clean-shaven, and his crew cut is sharp enough to cut through a delivery package. But for Steve, this job was never about catching shoplifters or looking tough. 

     This job was about returning stray carts to their rightful stores. He’d graduated to transporting six at a time. He’d mastered the proper form for maximum speed and efficiency. A broken wheel was never enough to slow him down. If there were an Olympic event for cart transporting, Steve would be a gold medal winner.

     This job was about setting up yellow “Caution: Wet Floor” signs. Perfect placement was key. The signs had to be immediately noticeable, yet not in the way of walking paths. He couldn’t handle the thought of someone tripping over the sign itself. To avoid any slippage, he’d scan the floors and check thoroughly for ceiling drips. Even a slight indicator of condensation would deserve a heads-up. Or a heads-down, depending on how you look at it.

      Most important of all, this job was about making people’s days just a bit better. He’d pleasantly chat with frequenters of young and old, and he’d crack jokes at any given opportunity. Some of the jokes were off-the-cuff, and others were rehearsed. A laugh would make his day. Steve was lonely at home, but at HarMar he felt alive. He felt like he mattered.