Depressing trip to the QFC

I go the Wallingford QFC when I need something (like Spam or toxic householder cleaners) that I can't get at the Fremont PCC. Today I went there to pick up some deli meats and a couple of odds and ends. Usually there is at least one panhandler out in front, and more recently with the recession and all there have often been two, but today there were four asking for money. One seriously old guy was especially pathetic in his battery powered wheelchair. He was up against the outside wall near a 110V outlet. He gestured for me to come over, and I did. He'd obviously had a stroke or something because he could barely talk, but he did make it known he wanted his wheelchair plugged in. But look as I might, I couldn't find the power cord. I went inside to get some help from the store, but the manager promptly informed me that the guy was around a lot, was nuts and that I should just ignore him. OK... I guess.

So I grabbed a basket and went over to the deli counter. There was no one right there to serve me, so I stood waiting patiently for a while. Finally a little old lady (she must have been at least 80) appeared behind the counter and asked if she could help me. I asked for a half-pound of sliced roast turkey, and then watched as she fumbled around for several minutes trying to find some in the display case. Finally a co-worker told her she'd have to get a new piece from the big cooler. The LOL disappeared into the cooler for quite some time and finally reappeared with a factory-wrapped turkey breast. I watched in sympathy as the LOL, who also is afflicted with a Parkinson's-like trembling, tried to get past the industrial strength plastic wrap. When she finally got down to the meat, my sympathy almost turned to horror as I watched her load the breast into the slicer. I thought I'd end up seeing her spraying her blood around the deli. but I guess the machine is foolproof and safe enough that even an 80-year-old with Parkinson's can't do any damage. It was excruciating to watch her lay out the plastic wrap on the output tray of the machine and then to watch her slice off one piece at a time into her hand and then lay it out on the plastic. She finally got enough cut to weigh it, but it was only 1/3 of a pound, so she went back to slice more. I told her it was close enough. I didn't have the heart (or the patience) to ask her for the 1/2 pound of pastrami that I also wanted.

I don't know what to think. At first, I figured, good for her to get out and work, and good for QFC to give her a job. Then I thought what a pity it was that this obviously frail old girl had to go to work for whatever reason, and then I thought that QFC should have put her in a job where couldn't do much damage to herself and to QFC's sales.

When I went outside to my car, the four panhandlers were still there, and the old guy in the power chair was still trying to get someone to hook him up to the AC outlet.

Who'd have thought a quickie trip to the store could turn out to be so sad?