The Checkout Isle

We all know the routine. We search frantically with our heads turning in all directions and eyes scanning the characters in each line to see how much they have in their carts.

We pick an isle and wait patiently trying to suppress the temptation of the candy all around us. We focus on the cashier's hands as they pass each item over the red laser beams as they tally the total and we hope nothing goes wrong.

Then we blink and when we open our eyes the isle number is blinking. We fling the door open to the mini-fridge selling sodas and grab a Coke. We have to open it before we buy it so we can take a drink to take the edge off the frustration. "I can't believe this lady is having the cashier get a manager to check a coupon so she can save 50 cents. That's outrageous!"

We calm down. Take a few deep breaths.

Finally, we get to the conveyer belt and begin the process of placing our items on it in a somewhat strategic manner. We take a certain amount of joy in it. It's almost therapeutic.

Then the question comes from the cashier, "How's your day?"

What do we do with this question? We know they don't mean it. We know they really don't care. But it feels awful to continue this same superficial dialogue week after week almost like a cocaine addict who knows what he's doing is wrong. We just want to say, "Fine, and you?" All of this happening while never looking into the other person's eyes and never meaning a bit of it. What's worse is that the cashier knows the conversation is superficial and is waiting for our superficial answer.

"But I don't want to be a superficial person!"

We could spill our guts and tell the cashier how we really feel. We could honestly seek to know how the cashier is feeling and ask them more pointed questions. However, the response to this would not be good in the least. We would look like one of those zealous protesters that picket for utopian ideals that deep down are good, but do we really want to make the sacrifice? Heck no.

We can think about things like this because there's not much else to do while the cashier is bagging everything. In the end we just say, "Fine and you?" and come back next week only to go through the same routine again and drop our alms in the superficiality donation box.