I used to think San Jose was the capital of 7-Eleven, until I found out today that Tokyo has the most stores at 1,713. I'm pretty sure we even beat out Norway, though, which has one 7-Eleven for every 47,000 Norwegians. There are so many 7-Elevens in San Jose that at the corner of Winchester and Payne Avenues, there's one 7-Eleven store on the northwest corner, facing Payne, and another at the southeast corner, facing Winchester (it's not quite on the corner, maybe down the road a little bit, but still less than a block away). All in all, there are four 7-Elevens within two miles of my house that I can easily bike to, should the mood strike me for cigarettes, chocolate bars, or Playgirl magazines (though I assure you I don't smoke, and everyone knows that Playboy is the one that publishes short stories. Jeez.).
For those of you that are unfortunate enough to lack 7-Elevens in your home state, I will inform you of the awesomeness you are missing out on. 7-Eleven is a convenience store, similar to what you'd find at a gas station, but usually with more stuff. Need cat food? Milk? Don't forget to pick up condoms for your date tomorrow night, or a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough for when your date stands you up. You can even get your weekly lottery ticket or bet on your favorites at Santa Anita or Golden Gate Fields. They're even writer-friendly by stocking pens, notebooks, and beer (or Red Bull if you're pulling an all-nighter to meet your deadline). They're called 7-Eleven because the original ones were open from 7:00 am to 11:00 pm, but now many of them are open 24 hours.
The one closest to my house is run by a Pakistani gentleman who always asks me how work is going, usually prefaced by "Long time no see!" or, "How have you been doing?" At first, I was kind of flattered that he remembered me. Isn't that what neighborhood shops used to be about, before we had all these big box stores that made everything impersonal?
But then I realized this: the 7-Eleven man knows you by your vices. Pretty much the only time he sees anyone come into his store is to get their fix for their various habits or addictions. I wonder if he catalogs this to himself. "Ah, here comes Cheez-its-and-Marlboros!" he might say to himself. Or perhaps, "Hey, Snickers-and-24 oz.-Asahi is back!" (that would be me). Think about it. Whether it's alcohol, chocolate, tobacco, dirty magazines, caffeine, or gambling, the 7-Eleven man has you nailed. Perhaps, then, it's not such a good thing to be recognized by the 7-Eleven man.
And I wonder too, what it's like to be the guy who knows everyone's vices. Does he secretly look down on us, with all our silly, self-destructive habits? Or is he more of a laissez-faire guy? Surely he must have some himself. Maybe it's all relative. Maybe I need to cut down on the chocolate so he doesn't recognize me anymore. Nah. It's not like I'm Woman-Who-Buys-Two-Packs-A-Day or Maxim-Dude.
