A Quick Stop

I had never been to that particular corner store, but I was in a rush, so I parked my car backwards in the spot closest to the entrance and hurried inside.  I walked the aisles with my head down and focused on getting what I needed and out of there as quickly as possible.  I soon became distracted by an argument a woman was having with the salesperson in the grocery aisle.  The woman wanted to use a coupon to buy some overpriced coffee.  It was a manufacturers coupon from an actual grocery store—the kind meant to be used when the item is first purchased.  She knew it was unreasonable, which is why she had asked the salesperson if she’d be able to use it while she was still shopping.  I needed to hurry up; the line at the register was growing. 

I made my way to the back of the line, checked the time, and began to wait.  I read all the magazine covers in the little stand near the counter, though I had no intention of buying any of them.  After a minute, I wasn’t even really reading them so much as staring straight through them, but I couldn’t seem to stop.  The customer checking out was taking forever deciding which scratch-off lottery tickets to buy.  Eventually, he decided to play the Powerball Lotto, which required the use of a machine the cashier wasn’t qualified to operate.  It’s possible it was her first week on the job.  As she fumbled around trying to figure it out, the line of people waiting grew annoyed and began looking at each other in disbelief.  The cashier buckled under the pressure and called the manager for assistance. 

The next person to the counter asked for help with the photo machine.  I stood there looking at the unmanned register and fantasized about just walking out.  “Yes, I know I have to pay for this,” I’d explain.  “I’ve been trying for ten minutes.  Please allow me to pay you and get on with my life!”  A different version of me might have tried it, but I decided to glare at the man and the cashier as they painstakingly worked their way through what appeared to be an exhaustive chronicling of his nephew’s tenth birthday party.  I hated that kid.  I hated the store and the fact that they offered photo services. 

The mood had turned ugly in The Corner Market and the line was pulsing and collectively perturbed.  At that point, the girl in front of me asked if I would hold her place in line while she ran to grab something she had forgotten.  Before I knew it, I had not only agreed to that, I was holding her heavy basket of items.  As soon as she left the line, I decided I would leave her basket on the floor if she didn’t make it back in time.  Naturally, just as I had a glimpse of the empty counter before me, she came hustling back to the front with several more items and a disappointing lack of appreciation for my sacrifice.  The crowd shifted its feet and sank back into their phones as she began to unload her basket.  About halfway through scanning her items, there was a price check and a duplication reversal, topped off with a jammed receipt printer that needed troubleshooting. 

I deeply regretted promising my son I would stop for baseball cards on the way home from work, but it was finally my turn to pay.  I turned back to acknowledge the remaining customers stubbornly waiting, then smiled at the cashier and asked, “Do you take checks?”

-          Written for “Patience In The Convenience Store”