Scrubs Scrubs Scrubs

During the summer, I occasionally help my dad out at his store. He owns a uniform store in Upstate New York…he sells pretty much every kind of uniform you can think of (police, fire, etc.).

Of course, the main thing he sells on the floor here are scrubs. Scrubs of all sizes, colors, fits, styles. It’s crazy to think about, actually. When I think of a nurse I usually picture them in boring blue scrubs. Maybe that’s just because that’s what they wear at the only hospital I’ve ever been to. It’s surprising to see the people that come in here and what kinds of things they buy to accent their style at work. Actually it’s just surprising to see the people that come in here in general.

Right now, for example, a very normal woman is in here. Picky, but definitely normal. This leads me to believe that my next customer will be incredibly UN-normal. And this next customer will probably yell at me for my very existence. That’s how it seems to go here, usually.

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