1 week Ago
“I don’t care if my husband wants pork chops or not. That’s what he’s getting for dinner tonight!” she told the cashier in a huff. As the woman emptied her cart, she rambled on for a couple of minutes about her deadbeat husband and the couple’s doomed dinner that night.
I stood behind her in line and pretended to look at my phone. (It's a skill I've mastered.) The cashier politely smiled at the woman, then glanced at me and rolled her eyes.
I politely smiled to her and started recording what I was hearing. A voice memo app on my iPhone has served me well for my job as a professional eavesdropper. (It's another skill I've mastered.
) “If he doesn’t want pork chops, he can make his own (expletive) dinner!” the woman griped. “I’m sick and tired of his complaining about what I cook.” This was the precise moment I knew I would be writing about things I’ve overheard in grocery store checkout lines.
What I hear is never on my shopping list but it’s always in my grocery bag when I leave. “We hear just about everything,” the cashier told me after the woman walked away. Since that funny exchange, I’ve paid more attention to other customers while waiting in line and scrolling through my phone.
I struggle to just look around and do nothing, even for a couple of minutes. I once noticed a younger man patiently standing in line to purchase only a single apple. Who does this? Was he craving a juicy Red Delicious? Was he low on cash? Was it a college fraternity prank? I had to Google it while I waited.
“How to use an apple to make a bong to smoke pot,” my search rendered. Ahhhh, now it makes sense. Although I’ve been around a lot of firsthand situations involving illegal drugs of all kinds (thanks to my late brother), I don’t recall a Granny Smith ever being in the mix.
Another time I watched a mother try to discipline her toddler daughter who desperately wanted a candy bar. The mother repeatedly told her no and eventually resorted to one of my favorite things to watch with young parents and unruly children. “One!” the mother told her daughter.
The girl kept pleading her case. “Twoooooo,” the mother said, dragging out the word for several seconds. Listen now and subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Stitcher | RSS Feed | SoundStack | All Of Our Podcasts The girl ignored her.
“Don’t make me say three,” the mother warned her. I loved every second of the tense exchange. In my head I kept saying, “Say three! Say three! Please say three!” Other customers covertly watched the situation unfold.
The mother felt the social pressure. Finally, she abruptly grabbed her daughter by the hand and plopped her into the cart. Then she grabbed that candy bar and tossed it into the cart.
The girl flashed a mischievous smile. I chuckled to myself. The mother never said three.
Last week, I stood in line behind two young boys who placed their items on the conveyor belt and pulled out a plastic jar filled with loose change. “OK, how much do we owe?” one of the boys asked the cashier. The bill was less than ten bucks for their items: a two-liter bottle of Dr.
Pepper, two boxes of M&M’s, and a tube of Pringles. The cashier, a young man with a lot of patience, began methodically counting the change as I waited in line behind the boys. Nickel after nickel, dime after dime, quarter after quarter, he slid the change into a separate pile.
I stood there mesmerized, as if we were at a store from my childhood long before our current digital world of Apple Pay, debit/credit cards and online cash apps. There was something so sweet, even nostalgic, about those two boys and their jar of coins. As they counted their money, I took a quick photo and drifted back into time for a minute.
I recalled a similar scenario from my youth at a Kroger grocery store and Dunes Rexall drugstore in Miller, back when I used coins to pay for pretty much everything. That coinage usually came from returning pop bottles that I found (or stole) in my neighborhood. I would use an empty mason jar to hold all the coins, rattling around like a snake as I slithered through my neighborhood on my bike.
At the store, I hoped I had enough money to buy the necessities: chocolate donuts, a pint of milk and red licorice (for dessert). If I came up short on coins, I would downsize for a pack of (Beemans) gum. I wondered if the two young boys had to downsize their purchase because they didn’t have enough coins.
“OK, you guys have enough,” the cashier told them before they grabbed their items and hustled away. It was only after they left the store, and after I snapped out of my daydream flashback, that I realized what I should have done – bought their items — with a credit card, of course. Shame on me.
One more exchange: An old lady stood in line to buy just one roll of toilet paper. Who gets only a single roll? Was she short on cash? Was she planning on not having a bowel movement next week? And then it hit me: How to use a toilet paper roll to make a bong to smoke pot..
