Lloyd

Thursday, February 23, 2023

At least two to three times a week, Lloyd comes in for his bananas. On these nights, without fail, he shows up in the last five to ten minutes of opening hours and stays past close. Does he work until 8:30? Though he appears to be of retirement age, I don’t imagine Lloyd sits around at home too much watching tv and doing puzzles. This man moves with purpose and vigor. Maybe he just perpetually forgets that we close at 9? Or does he simply like the thrill of the race against the clock? Nevermind that the staff have been there for 8-9 hours, fielding questions about mandarins vs navels vs blood oranges for this weekend’s mimosas (because store bought orange juice is disgusting), and want to get the hell out of there. Regardless, he’s equal parts endearing and, how shall I say it? Frustrating.

Lloyd is always in uniform: he wears a baseball style cap with mountains on it and an aztec patterned jacket atop a blue button down. He greets me in his sort of southern drawl like he really means it: “Hey there, Cat!” It’s nice and kind that he addresses me by my name. Last time I bemoaned the lack of organic bananas available to him. Not to worry. 

“I don’t like the ones from Dole so much, Cat. I like the ones from Costa Rica.” 

Whenever Lloyd comes in, I can’t help but think about Lloyd Christmas. The two share a first name but also the same energy—I can one hundred percent see Banana Floyd in a bright orange tuxedo or driving a furry dog van offering Mutt Cuts. 

As I cover the potatoes for close, a voice comes across the speaker system: “Good evening Whole Foods guests and team members, the time is 9 o’clock and we are now closed. Please make your final selection and head to register two.” And still, there is Lloyd in his blue surgeon gloves, touching every single bunch of bananas and inspecting them under and over with such focus, finally removing one here and one there until two plastic bags are full of his hand picked beauties. On one of his forays into the store, I glanced at his cart and saw, of course, the bananas, but then about 9 oversized bags of granola as well. Maybe he hits the yogurt section around 9:05. 

I don’t usually wait to find out. I’m headed to back-of-house as he rummages around the banana stand and calls out over his shoulder, with gusto, “Hey you have a good one, Cat!” 

You too, Lloyd. You too.