I’m Not Here to Talk

I went to the Walmart store to buy some groceries. I picked up a few items, but I don’t know how many items were in my cart because I didn’t count them. When I was ready to checkout, the checkout lines were long, but there was an express line that had nobody in it. The sign said “20 items or less” and eyeballing my cart I thought I might have 20 items, but I wasn’t sure. Standing at the register was a young woman who looked to be maybe twenty years old. There was no one waiting behind me so I figured a little friendly banter couldn’t hurt. I rolled my cart up to the register and said, “I’m not sure I have fewer than twenty items. Would you like me to count them?”

The young woman said, “No,” and looked in another direction.

“I don’t mind,” I replied. “You’re sure you don’t want me to count them?”

The young woman said nothing and continued to look away.

“I just don’t want to get in trouble with the Walmart police,” I tried one more time.

This prompted the young woman to say, “I’m just here to do my job. I’m not here to talk.”

“Well, “ I replied, “by all means, don’t let being cheerful get in the way of doing your job.”

So she did her checkout job in silence while I did my customer job in silence. Not another word was exchanged between us. When I left, I almost said to her, “I hope you feel better.” Almost. But I didn’t because that would have involved being friendly to her, and I knew that my being friendly would ruin her day.

I assume she was only having a bad day and that she isn’t a full-time grouch. But who knows. I guess it’s the grouches we meet that make us appreciate the friendly people we meet.