It
was a busy Friday evening
at the local grocers. All the checkouts were full and I was in the express
line, patiently waiting. The express line means 12 items or less. The sign said
so. As I waited my turn, I looked at the cashier. She reminded me of my
daughter on her first summer job. A little flushed and trying to do her best.
Probably she was on day one after orientation and training. She fumbled a bit
on weighing items and took a bit longer to check out the codes for pricing.
Most customers took the time to peruse
the strategically placed items found at all checkouts; those last minute things
you toss into your basket and were definitely not on your list of things to
buy.
All was well, except for the lady
directly in front of me. She tossed her perfectly coiffed, highlighted hair
back and forth while complaining “I’m going to be late,” in a loud voice on her
cell phone. She rolled her eyes at anyone who dared make eye contact with her.
Her high-heeled shoes tapped a staccato
on the terrazzo floor. She was in a hurry to be somewhere else. I cringed when
she shouted, “Can’t you go any faster? This is the express line, you know!”
My heart went out to the checkout girl.
At the same time I counted not 12 but 20 items in this customer’s basket. I
tried to keep silent, but as her agitation continued I felt compelled to tap
her on the shoulder and said, “Can’t you just cut her some slack? She’s doing
her best.” The icy blue stare I got in return could have frozen hell over. She
sniffed and turned away.
When she finally got her turn, she
threw her items on the conveyor belt and continued her toe tapping dance. By
now, the cashier was beet red, but still managed to stay calm. The customer
tossed the cash on the counter for her purchases, and raced out of the store.
I couldn’t help but congratulate the
cashier on keeping her cool and she smiled. “Yes, it’s my first day, and most
people have been really good.”
As I left the store, I couldn’t
suppress my laughter at the scenario outside. A tow truck was pulling a Hummer
out of the No Parking Zone. There was “Ms. more than 12 items,” clutching her
shopping bag, waving her cell phone, and running in high-heeled pursuit after
the truck.
Sometimes, you just have to love
justice.
Connie
Cook, based in Port Credit,
Ontario, has been writing short stories for the last three years and is
currently working on her first novel. She’s constantly on the lookout for real
life scenarios and is amazed what you can learn just by observing and
listening. Finding Justice was previously published on CommuterLit.com. For information
on submitting to CommuterLit, see here.
This summer, Connie took part
in the Intensive Creative Writing course in Burlington. Three courses starting this fall still
have space: Welcome to Creative Writing in Burlington on Tuesday afternoons (see here)
and The Next Step in Creative Writing, offered on Thursday afternoons in Mississauga (see here)
and on Thursday evenings in Georgetown (see here).
See Brian's
full schedule here, including writing workshops and
creative writing courses in Kingston, Peterborough, Toronto, Mississauga,
Brampton, Georgetown, Milton, Oakville, Burlington, St. Catharines, Hamilton,
Dundas, Kitchener, Guelph, London, Woodstock, Orangeville, Newmarket, Barrie,
Gravenhurst, Sudbury, Muskoka, Peel, Halton, the GTA, Ontario and beyond.
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