Friday morning, I braved the crazed crowd in Save A Lot to lay in supplies before the approaching ice/snow storm. Flakes were flurrying, and shoppers were scurrying. It didn't help that the schools had canceled, and the store was full of kid-towing moms.
I was third in line at the first register. They actually had three lines open. In fact, the mom of one of Genius's high school classmates, who has worked there for a while, said that one of their cashiers came in to shop, and they put her to work!
The man in front of me stood in front of his cart. Most women don't do that, I think. It looked odd. He had all his stuff out, and was pulling his empty cart closer to himself to give me room, when two strapping young stockers rushed through. I'm not sure of their purpose. They ended up hurrying to the ice machine, opening the doors, doing some rearranging, perhaps, and then rushed back out. Perhaps they were going to unload the ice truck.
The problem was, in their haste to get to that ice machine, the first of the Two Strapping Stockers knocked into The Front Man's cart. In fact, his cart careened back into MY cart with a clang. I was leaning on mine, and absorbed the shock without creating a domino wave to the cart behind me. I heard The Front Man say, "Ow!" Not loud. He shook his hand.
I figured he might have had his hand pinched between a Strapping Stocker's belt buckle and the metal cart. I don't know the specific etiology of his injury. Only that he seemed to have taken a blow. He asked Genius's Classmate's Mom Checker if she had a tissue. She looked. "No. I'm sorry. Doris, do you have a tissue?" No. Doris did not.
I know what it's like to need a tissue and not have one. So I reached in my jacket pocket and extracted one of the two I carry there. It was unused, but folded. I proffered it to The Front Man.
"Sir? Excuse me? Did you say you needed a tissue? I have one. It's not used, but it's folded from my pocket."
The Front Man took it, thanked me, and wrapped it around his finger. He told Genius's Classmate's Mom Checker, "When that boy hit my cart, it cut my finger. I wanted something to stop the blood. Most people don't want blood dripping on their stuff."
Genius's Classmate's Mom Checker was sympathetic. "Oh! Do you need a bandaid? We usually have some in the office. Did you cut it on the handle? Some of those are sharp, because they're broken."
I'd seen the whole thing, and knew it had nothing to do with the handle, but that Strapping Stocker's rushing around like a bull in a Save A Lot.
Good thing I'm always prepared!
2 comments:
I remember always being prepared when I worked on checkout. I had extra pens, tissues, bandaids, notepaper and small scissors which I had to be careful about lending out because the supervisor was the sort to borrow from everyone but never bring anything back. Here in Australia though, any carts with defects like broken handles get pushed out the back and locked away to be repaired.
River,
I would trust you to do minor surgery on me, right at your register!
Around here, the carts seem to be there to thin the herd. Some don't have the child seat flap, and the small merchandise you put in the top section falls out, so you have to bend over and pick it up, risking being rear-ended by other carts that don't steer the way you push them. The handles are indeed cracked and sharp. OSHA would run out of ink writing up violations!
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