The Fast Line

In which line should I wait at the cashier’s at the supermarket?

I chose the only line with only one person.

I had only seven items in my cart, but with more than five people in line at the up-to-eight checkout line, I felt my line had to be faster. Now, generally when I go to the supermarket I take my time, say hello to old acquaintances and friends, compare prices and check the bargain bin.

But today I was in a hurry: I had a bus to catch and an appointment to keep.

“This cake costs 13.45. But if you buy a second one, the two will only cost you 17.75. Do you want to go and get a second one?”  the cashier politely asked the woman in front of me.

She went and got a second cake, while I continued to empty her cart onto the checkout counter. I thought both she and I would save time that way.

The cashier came to the liquid soap. “We have a deal now on the soap: one costs you 12.05, but if you buy three, it will only cost you 30.95. Do you want to buy three?”

The woman hesitated, apparently trying to figure out if she indeed wanted three.

“Nu, come on already, I’m in a hurry,” I felt like saying to her, but refrained, knowing that my nudging would not make her any faster, and heaven forbid, might even slow her down. I had a bus to catch: she must not slow down

She went and returned with a package of three.

I had by this time emptied her cart. I was patiently waiting to place my seven items on the checkout counter.

Great! Now she’s paying. Seeing her pull out her wallet, I felt relieved - I could zip though the checkout and make the bus.

The woman opened her checkbook. She had no checks left.

“So give me your credit card,” the cashier said.

“Sorry, I don’t have a credit card. I’ll give the delivery man a check when he comes to me.”

“You need to go and speak to the manager.”

The woman disappeared to the manager’s desk at the other end of the row of checkout counters.

I had by this time emptied my seven items onto the counter, positive that I would get out any minute. I checked my watch – at least once for every item I wanted to buy. The minutes were ticking by. And I was ticked off. All I wanted was to catch my bus!

“Can you just check me out here, fast?” I asked the cashier.

“Sorry, ma’am, I’m in the middle of the account here.” You could tell by her politeness that she was a new immigrant.

I started my slow Lamaze breathing. I’ve used it more since I gave birth more than twenty years ago than I did during the birth. When I want to scream, I breathe. The woman behind me in line noted that all those who had been in the eight-item line had already left. Two new people were in that line.

But my purchases were already on the counter. I didn’t want to change line after all this. After all, how much longer could this woman take? Wouldn’t she be back in a minute? Plus, my shopping cart had already gone.

The woman returned from the manager’s desk and filled out the delivery form. Now, the cashier waited for instructions from the manager. She buzzed the manager’s desk from her post.

More seconds sped by. I had missed my bus. I had no choice now but to wait for the next one, half an hour later. I would have to call my colleague to explain my delay.

No one was answering at the manager’s desk.

After some moments, the manager gave instructions through the intercom. “Give her a cash debit slip.”

“But I’m giving you a check,” said the woman.

“Okay, so you’ll give us a check, but you have a cash debit slip.”

“I wanna get outa here!” I felt like screaming, but remembered just in time to continue my Lamaze breathing.

Finally, finally my turn came.

I called my colleague from the public phone. I have no cellphone. The recorded message on her cell phone told me to call back later.

I took the next bus, upset that I would be so late. She arrived at exactly the same time I did.