My husband pulled up to the door of Giant Supermarket and we all three recited the grocery list again. My niece and I promised not to dawdle or stray from the list as we shut the car door behind us. We tried to get our bearings in the unfamiliar supermarket. We wandered up and down the wine and candy isles saying "Milk, Cokes, and artichokes". I felt like I was in the old Sesame Street clip of the little girl dancing on the way to the supermarket, "a loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter".
We grabbed everything we needed and headed toward the shortest checkout line we could find. As I passed a cooler on the end cap, I saw tiny aluminum bottles of cold coke. I grabbed one and placed it and our groceries on the checkout belt. The woman in front of us was asking to pay with both check and credit. I rested my eyes on a tabloid magazine about Bruce Jenner wanting to be a woman. I looked back down at the tiny aluminum bottle of Coke and realized that my husband would want one too. I held it up and told my niece to go grab another one.
More time passed, and I looked to see what the hold up was. Now the lady in front of us was angry because her check information printed on the back of her check instead of the front. The young check out girl explained that their machine does it that way. The woman told the girl that she had done it wrong and asked for the manager. The manager came over and explained the same thing about their machine. The woman became irate and argued that it was inconvenient for her to have to document the information on the front of her check. The check out girl just stood there, frozen, not knowing what to say as the manager walked away. The woman kept on and kept on; berating the girl and shuffling her coupons and receipts angrily into her wallet. I looked at the young girl's eyes and I could see the pool of water that had begun to collect in them. If she had blinked, tear drops would have surely fallen. She was strong as she could be though, pushing the last of the woman's bags toward her, hoping to move her along.
I wanted to do something for her. I wanted to say something to her. I wanted her to know that she is not the cause of people's unhappiness but simply just a target. I looked down at her register and saw a near empty bottle of Dr. Pepper. I snapped my fingers at my niece who was lost in the tabloids. "Go get me a bottle of Dr. Pepper". She rolled her eyes at me and huffed but ran yet another errand for me.
The belt started moving again and the woman was pushing her cart on down the isle toward the door. The checkout girl laid one artichoke on the scale and tried to use her reference guide to find the code. Her mind wasn't on checking people out or recognizing bizarre produce. Her mind was on the words that had just cut her like a knife. I said "Artichokes" with a gentle smile and she nodded quickly in agreement. She rang up the Dr. Pepper and tried to place it in the bag. I said "You can leave that out".
She announced my total and I placed my bags into the cart. She tried to hand me the bottle of Dr. Pepper. I pushed it back toward her and said "That is for you. I hope you don't have to deal with any other mean people tonight". She looked straight into my eyes and I knew what was coming. Her tears began to pour onto her apron and the bottle I had just given her. She shook her head in agreement. A co-worker who was bagging groceries nearby came over to see what was wrong. When she saw her face, she just said "Oh, baby".
We pushed our cart toward the door and saw the mean woman who had stopped the manager once again to complain. As we passed them, I heard the manager say "She is one of the sweetest cashiers we have".
Indeed she is.
I may have gone into the grocery store for milk, Cokes, and artichokes, but I came out of there with so much more.
P.S. My favorite part of the artichoke is the heart.
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