There was this guy who worked there awhile back (I'm putting it in the past tense because I haven't seen him in about a year) who was tall, bald and had facial hair reminiscent of Abe Lincoln.
Anyway, that guy was kind of an idiot. He did a lot of mumbling about some stupid band he was in and would practice air guitar while he stood behind the counter. Hello, I'm there to buy toilet paper, not listening to some weirdo wax poetic on lyrics he wrote about flying away on some airplane. I can only imagine what the girl he wrote those lyics about thinks of him.
Whatever, dude should have been working and not standing around admiring the flaming guitar heart tattoo on his forearm. I can't think about the Market Basket without associating it with that choad.