No order. He wanted some order. The only place he could find it in were his memories. That burning hot 

asphalt

. Black tar. They had paved it fresh that summer he had worked there. While his best friends were at summer camp he was pushing carts around. Breathing fumes. Fresh black tar.

The skies that 

summer

were blue. Growing up he thought blue skies were good. That summer job taught him otherwise. The heat would kill you. Especially when you were pancaked between a cloudless sky and a freshly paved parking lot. The latter being heated by gas guzzlers, blasting 

AC

.

gas

was cheaper back then. It was right before the big jump while Bush was in office. James could afford to go to the movies. Buy snacks. Candy. Stuff like that. He wondered how that was even possible on minimum wage.

His coworker, who basically worked the same hours as him, was a 300 pound man named Roddy. While at work, Roddy would strategically steal candy bars. Just enough that the chain wouldn't be suspicious. Big chain store like that was used to a consistent stream of theft. Roddy knew how much to steal in order to not trigger any alarms. Maybe because of that Roddy wasn't 400 pounds, James laughed to himself.

Regardless.. they were still able to get away with stealing a lot of candy. James never found the job that boring. Apparently Roddy did. He couldn't go more than an hour without digging into a some candy. It reminded James of this quote from 

George Orwell

who posited that Coal Miners didn't fight for better living standards due to the ubiquity of cheap sweets and electricity. Roddy.

There was a nice gang of them back at the big box store. He missed those days. If only he could get out of this Uber and go back in time. Be the kid he was back then. Back when he would sometimes have a half minute conversation with Jen Butters in the middle of the aisle. Then he would think about that conversation all day.