Note: This started out as a novel based on my experience in retail, but I decided to turn it into a fanfic instead. I plan on actually finishing this, as long as others like it. Let me know your thoughts!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

Prologue

When I met him I thought this was it. All my patience had paid off. Here he was, right in front of me, brown eyes searing me with a pleasant burning in my chest. I wanted to hold his hand, anything that would prove he was as real as my heart made him out to be. My entire being wanted him so badly and now here he was months later, standing here telling me what I'd waited 23 years to hear. I could sense his impatience, in the corners of his mouth and the way he bounced on his heels. Everything seemed to hinge on this one answer, change was going to happen and I wasn't sure if I could handle it. Rhythmic sounds of our breathing synched with the thumping of our heartbeats. He opened his mouth to speak. This was it.

Chapter 1

I was calm. Or, really trying to remember what that feeling was like.

"Mam, this coupon expired last year, unfortunately given the date, we cannot honor it. Now if you would like too, we are giving 20% to those who apply for our Kaine's Card."

My last twenty minutes had been spent trying not to kill the lady in front of me, let's call her "Edna". Now, Edna wanted to use a 50% off coupon that had expired in December of 2011. This is after she had returned about thirty items from a receipt that dated to April of 1999. Fortunately for her, our store system can find items within the last fifteen years, so Edna got her $241.34 back. By this point my assisting her in what I believe to be numerous crimes, resulted in a sharp decline in my patience. Edna had now decided that I was going to be the privileged soul who would help her purchase three carts worth of items. The woman was short, but in such a way that in her prime, she must have been tall. Gray hair stuck out from underneath her Winnie the Pooh bandanna, as if trying to escape from the horrors of this woman's scalp. Thick rimmed, lined bifocals (which had, surprise, little Mickey Mouse heads, one on each side) covered her face. They clearly had some sort of magnifying effect, as her eyes seemed to bug out, giving me the assumption that Edna was clearly crazy.

"So you're telling me that even though I have this coupon right here in my hand, I can't use it?" Edna seemed baffled that I would even suggest that her coupon was unusable. "Unfortunately no, we can only allow the use of coupons that have expired in the last month." The lines of her jaw were set, I knew what was coming. "Is there a manager I could talk too? This is ridiculous."

Customers loved to use the manager line when they could not get what they wanted. Many others will fall for this. Unfortunately for them, I am not a sucker. "I promise he will tell you exactly what I just told you. The coupon you have is almost a year old, so as I previously said, I cannot honor it." Said coupon was still lying on the counter, the somehow still stark white "50%" glaring up at me, and just like Edna, it too wanted me to cave under pressure. While my job required me to always provide excellent customer service there were time like this in my years at Kaine's where I learned that it's necessary to tell the customer no. But never in such a way that the customer refuses to set foot in your establishment; just enough of a "no" that they get the message. And as both Edna and the expired coupon continued to fight me, I came to the perfect solution.

"Mam, let me call my supervisor and what we can do for you." She gave me that look that said, "I win." Walking over to the phone I proceeded to pretend to make a call. I hit a couple numbers for effect, Edna wouldn't need to know. " Hello, yes, this is Rachel, I have a customer here who has an expired coupon. No, it's from last year. Okay, I'll let her know, thank you." Edna still held the same accomplished glint when I again stood in front of her. "My supervisor cannot honor your coupon, but he will allow me to give you 15% off." She seemed to be pondering my offer. I could almost hear the whizzing and clinking that was going on in her brain. Unexpectedly a smile appeared on her face, " that will be fantastic! Thank you!" Another 13.5 minutes later, which were filled with, "Can you tell me how the price of this" and "but the sign said 60% off" Edna had finally left the building. Her car clickity clanking along the floor tiles and her sparkly blue loafers shuffled along creating a rhythm.

The clock on my computer showed only an hour left in my shift. Life moved at the speed of the say here. Today life was turtle paced, slow but only a little steady. Around me were piles of returns. Boxes of shoes that have "only been worn once" and jeans that "should not be fading after one wash" were stacked along the counters and floor. I saw returns like throwing out the trash. No one ever quite thinks about where it ends up. I was basically standing in the center of a landfill, without the birds flying overhead and the smell of decay in the air. So like any good and obedient worker, I set to clearing. This tedious (but oh so amazingly mind-numbing) task went on for about ten minutes when another customer showed up. The man was hard of hearing and like most of human kind, too stubborn to do anything about it. I leaned on my high school theater experience and annunciated very slowly and loudly.

"HOW ARE YOU TODAY ?" Apparently I had not used my diaphragm to its full ability and I received a blank stare before his mouth finally caught up with his head, "Huh? I want to return these pants." Taking a deep breath to increase volume I said, "OKAY I CAN HELP YOU." "Sorry what?" I would present you with the entire conversation but it was 99% shouting, 1% actual comprehension. Needless to say after that and about five other customers who chose to return the oddest items (one woman pulled about twelve bras out of a green recycled bag and another spent ten minutes carefully unwrapping individual Christmas ornaments, all of which were shaped like cowboy boots) I was welcoming the end of the day. And as I rubbed my pen inked hands down my face, I heard the sound of my savoir. "Well, this should make for a fun filled night. How busy were we today?"

"Thank God you're here Lauren, only you can save this store from exploding further. It was fairly slow today, but has you can plainly see, entire closets were returned." Lauren had been here longer than me, she had a degree in Criminology and had planned on being a lawyer, but she always said that working here at Kaine's was really her niche. Plus here it was almost perfectly acceptable to give the occasional glare towards a customer, court was too boring. She had the face of a lawyer, a demanding and determined look in her eyes, an argument always sitting on the tip of her tongue. "No problem, I'm honored to be the Superman of Kaine's. Now, you get out of here while you can. Have a good rest of the day!"

I waved my goodbyes and weaved my way through the unwanted clothes making their home on the tiled floor. Pushing through the "Employ's Only" door, the smell of hot pockets and coffee attacked my nose. The break room, where employees complained endlessly about the rudeness of customers, was empty save for the sticky traps filled with rollie pollies and the humming of the vending machines. My getaway was quick and I was soon driving down the busiest street in the city. It was during the drives home where I complained to myself. Because yourself never tries to disagree with you, although the version seen by fellow drivers is probably less sane. This was never the life I wanted for myself, but doesn't about 90% of the population say that on a regular bases? My dreams had been long forgotten, along with any hope of ever finding my way out of Lima, OH. As they say, life had other plans.

Turning onto my street I glanced at the houses passing by, all lackluster in their appearance, but somehow still emitting a feeling of homeliness. Parking my sorry excuse for a car (the driver's side lock had been busted in by some nimrod during a long shift), I walked up the weed infested sidewalk to the house I rented with my roommate Santana. Her bitchy attitude tends to throw people off, but she's a softy when she wants to be, and not to mention, she haggled the landlord into cutting our rent in half. When I walked through the door, I found her on the couch, watching one of those obviously staged court shows, and yelling at the television in Spanish.

"Hey Rachel. Can you believe this chick? Claims her best friend owes her money for "damages." Apparently didn't clean the rug when she stopped renting the house or some shit. Also this chick has been sleeping with this "best friends" boyfriend for months. What kind of messed up shit is this?"

"Crappy television?"

"Haha, very funny. So how was work?"

"The usual, evil customers, constant complaints. What about you? Any ass grabbing's today?"

Santana worked at a local bar, appropriately titled, "Easy's." All the gross, unshaven, flannel wearing men of Lima migrated there every night. But they had the best fries in town, and on weekends underage college kids flocked there because the bar was notorious for never checking ID's.

"Not so much, it was pretty slow. Except for Noah Puckerman, asshole never stops vulgarly suggesting we and I quote, "head to my apartment and see what's under that skirt.""

"Does he know you, you know…"

"I'm avoiding it, pretty sure if he knew I swung that way, it would only increase his terrible pick up lines."

I had gone to high school with Noah Puckerman, he had never failed to live up to his reputation, and even during their teen years had women lining up. Except for Santana that is. Very few of those I went to school with had made it out of Lima, instead taking over family businesses, teaching at the local schools, or like Puckerman, just kind of existing. Usually with a beer in hand.

Leaving Santana, I headed to my room, planning on washing the day off with a hot shower. Every day had been the same for the past two years. Wake up at 6am, elliptical workout, shower, coffee, work for eight plus hours, come home, shower, dinner, repeat. It wasn't that I didn't want more for myself, I did, it's just like every other case in Lima, I was stuck. Getting unstuck was proving to be an impossible dream.

As I lay in bed that night, listening to the trains pass by, whistles bursting with excitement, my over active mind begin to ponder the standard interview question: Where do you want to be in five years? I used to no without a doubt what that answer was. I'd known probably since birth, but now, I had zero idea. Or maybe I just lacked the drive I used to? I wasn't sure. Looking at my clock, 1:00am was glowing, I had to be up in five hours. New hires were coming in tomorrow, hopefully at least one of them would be work knowing. Another group of people bound to be trapped.

Sleep came to me then, I dreamed I was on a stage the lights bright and inviting. My dress shimmered and my voice carried out into the seats. But as I looked out, the seats were empty. Except for one. It was a man, that I could tell, but the only feature I could make out, were his eyes. They were brown, and so full of love. Scampering off the stage I walked toward him, willing him to come into the light, but then like every dream, I woke up.