Vitamin Quit

Vitamins are essential to our health and vitality…Geez, that sounds like spam. This is not spam. It is the opposite of spam! I am very skeptical that a fountain of youth can be found in the form of a pill. Studies show that vitamins taken in pill form are difficult to absorb and most of them will be flushed when you pee. Unless you are pregnant or have some sort of diagnosed deficiency, experts recommend getting your vitamins from the food you eat.

Besides, I don’t trust the makers of vitamin supplements, none of which are approved by the FDA (American Food and Drug Administration). Vitamin supplements are exempt from pre-market approval. It is a real “caveat emptor” situation.

I used to be more ambivalent about my stance on this subject. In fact, I used to pedal the stuff at a vitamin and supplement shop when I was in my twenties. We sold everything from basic multivitamins to more fringe herbal and home remedies like ear candles and literature about the infamous Master Cleanse (Lemonade Diet).

The owner and proprietor of the franchise was also my boss. This job didn’t pay well, but it was my second job that offered flexibility. Plus, if everything was clean and stocked, I could chill and read a book until a customer came in. The job was easy, but there were a few red flags that eventually led to my resignation.

For one, the credit card machine didn’t always work. If it failed to read the card, I would have to take an impression of the card using one of those old-timey transfer paper receipts and there was a number to call to verify the purchase until the credit card machine came back online. It happened about once a week and it was a very clunky process that made the customers very impatient.

The second thing that made me nervous was the detox drinks. People would use them to subvert drug tests. My boss was adamantly against this use of the product. He kept the detox drinks in a hidden cabinet. He warned me that If someone came in looking intoxicated and requesting it, I should refuse to sell it to them. “Be vigilant,” he said.

Now, I may have been young and naive, but I wasn’t crazy. If someone came into the shop with wild eyes, drunk or high demanding I sell them ‘that drink’ expressly for the purpose of cheating on a drug test, I would most definitely comply and hope they weren’t in the mood to commit any other perhaps more violent crimes.

When we were alone together in the store, the owner would lure me into a chat that led him to ask me some pretty inappropriate questions about my religious beliefs and my relationship with my future husband. I was annoyed by his assertion that women were put on earth to serve a husband and have children, nothing more. It seemed like an awkward thing to talk about with an employee. He and his wife were born again Christians. He was doing a poor job of evangelizing. His brand of religion sounded like a hostage situation.

While on one hand, he believed a woman’s place was in the home. A woman is weaker both mentally and physically, he said. She needs to be controlled and protected by her big strong husband. Yet, he seemed to exclusively employ young women to work independently in his shop, weak little ladies left to stand up to drug addicts and thieves in a shop with no security.

Once he accused me of stealing several barrels of weight gain protein powder (the kind that body builders use). At the time I weighed about a hundred and thirty pounds. No one would mistake me for a body builder. Maybe I could have sold it for my own profit, but how and to whom, I have no idea.

There was an incident where a guy came in to buy a few barrels of the stuff just before closing. He was a big guy. It was late and I was working alone. I was skeptical about the credit card he handed me, but it had a little Visa symbol in the bottom left hand corner, so I ran it through the machine. Of course, this was one of the times the machine failed. The guy kept insisting that the card was good. I tried it several times. The guy got angrier and angrier, said he was in a hurry.

I made an impression of the card and started to call the number to verify the purchase, but the guy was already out the door with the barrels tucked under his musclebound arms. The verification was unsuccessful. I told the owner about it and he generously took only half the price of the goods out of my paycheck. Even if I knew that was illegal, trying to sue him would have been more trouble than it was worth. I don’t think I made rent that month.

One night it became too much. I was crying about all the crap this guy had put me through. I have a strong work ethic and quitting is and has always been a last resort. I don’t take the decision lightly even under the worst circumstances. I was torturing myself over what to do. For my fiance, the answer seemed obvious, but it took me hours of weighing the pros and cons and half a box of tissues to agree.

I remember showing up at the shop to give my notice. It was dark outside, maybe 8 pm. I brought my fiance for moral support. “I quit,” I said. “Today was my last day.”

“What do you mean, you quit?,” was his response.

What was I supposed to say? I’m sure he was trying to intimidate me into staying, but I handed him my key. “I am not a thief.” I said. “It wasn’t right for you to deduct money from my paycheck and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal.”

He just scoffed and maintained that it was my fault. I didn’t care. I felt an immediate and intense sense of relief. Quitting that job was one of the healthiest decisions I ever made.

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If you liked this story. Here's another one about a strange job I once had.