Words for My Enjoyment

I Think My Checker Is Up To Something

July 17th, 2006

We all interact with checkers.

No, not the plastic pieces from the famous game. No, not the people who check to see if you’re home and if you’re not they use a rubberband to tie a flyer on your door-handle. I’m talking about the people who “check you out” at your local Supermarket, electronics store, pharmacy and what not. The conversations you have with the people scanning your credit cards, taking your money and giving you change.

But what happens when those conversations start to seem ominous?

Lately, I started to notice a strange look in the eyes of my checker. She wasn’t as cheery as she normally was. She often seemed as if she was just going through the motions. She’d abandoned some of her better, slicker moves (like the one where she notices there are six cottage cheeses and hits the number six on her register, then scans one which rings up as six) and has almost always forgotten to tell me just how much I’ve saved on any particular occasion.

But even stranger than that were the directions our conversations started to go.

The minute such conversations began to telegraph a deeper meaning, I started keeping track of her words and mine, jotting down the conversations in a little booklet in my car after each scenario. And now, today, I give you the last six conversations I’ve had with my checker — and if you have any sanity left in your head once you’re done reading them I think you’ll agree she’s up to something.

Take a look.

#1: June 6th, 4:32pm
Her: “Hi, how are you?”
Me: “Good, thanks. You?”
Her: “You good?”
Me: “I just said I was good. How are you?”
Her: “Don’t forget to put your club card number in.”
Me: “Ok.”

#2: June 19th, 11:19am
Me: “Hey, how you doin’?”
Her: “That’s all relative, isn’t it?”
Me: “Relative? How?”
Her: “Well, I might say I’m wonderful, but my concept of wonderful might be horrible for someone else. Therefore, the wonderful I’m feeling may, in reality, actually be horrible without me ever knowing any differently.”
Me: “I should probably put my club card number in now, huh?”
Her: “If you think it matters, sure.”

#3: June 29th, 8:53pm
Me: “Hey.”
[She just continues to scan and scan, in her own world.]
Me: “Almost July. Time flies, huh?”
Her: “They want you to think it flies.”
Me: “Who does.”
Her: “THEY do.”
Me: “Who is THEY?”
Her: “Don’t forget to put your club card number in.”

#4: July 5th, 10:12am
Me: “Hi there.”
Her: “Hello.”
[I put in my club card number.]
Me: “There. Club card number, engaged.”
[She looks behind her, making sure the coast is clear, then hands me a $5 OFF COUPON for groceries.]
Her: “Go ahead, take it.”
Me: “Really?”
Her: “Yeah. Just take it.”
Me: “Thanks!”
Her: “Oh, don’t thank me.”
Me: “No?”
Her: “No.”
Me: “Okaaaay.”

#5: July 11th, 2:19pm
Me: “Hey.”
Her: “What kind of car do you drive?”
Me: “Why do you ask?”
Her: “I think I saw you somewhere.”
Me: “Oh? Where?”
Her: “Tell me what kind of car you drive and then I’ll tell you where.”
[Meanwhile, the bagger is listening, confused.]
Me: “Um, I don’t know that I’m comfortable telling you that.”
Her: “I totally saw you. I know it was you.”
Me: “Where?”
Her: “You know. In that place. By that street.”
Me: “Plastic. I’ll take plastic.”

#6: July 16th, 6:23pm
[In the automated checkout line, avoiding my usual checker. She sees me, approaching.]
Her: “Don’t like my checkout line or something?”
Me: “Sort of in a rush. Couldn’t wait.”
Her: “There’s no one in my line.”
Me: “Yeah, well I like doing it myself every once in awhile.”
Her: “You mean, you want to be dependent on computers instead of people.”
Me: “I guess.”
Her: “Didn’t you ever see Terminator?”
Me: “Yeah.”
Her: “Yeah, well… Depend on these computers long enough for your grocery needs and before long the entire world will be controlled by robots.”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Her: “Ha ha. HA.”

She’s up to something. I just know it.

Posted under At The Supermarket, Conversations, Overheard. |