My shift was goin’ pretty normal, wich is good on a Tuesday afternoon. We don’t get a alot of rush after lunch but before dinner. I was just chuggin’ along, ringin’ up groceries, makin’ sure everything was scanned right. I like things to be right, you know? Like, when I sort my coin collection at home, all the coins from the tiny countries I gotta put in their own special pages, otherwise it just ain’t right. If you mix up the ones from say, Tuvalu with the ones from Vanuatu, it’s just chaos. That’s how my brain works. Everythings got its place.
I seen her comin’ up to my line with a stroller and a basket full of stuff. She looked like most of the ladies that come through here, kinda tired, hair a bit messy but still nice, you know? She had a baby in the stroller, real little, maybe a year old, happily chew’n on some kind of toy. Her basket had some juice, cereal, and a few things for the baby, like some pouches of pureed fruit. Nothin’ outta the ordinary yet.
I smiled, said my usual, “Find everything okay today?” and started scanning her stuff. Beep. Beep. Everything was goin’ smooth. I seen her glance down at her baby a few times and then at a display we have right by the checkout lane. It’s got all them little impulse buys, like candy bars and little packs of cookies and stuff. I don’t usually pay it much mind, people grab stuff or they don’t. This time though, her baby, quick as a wink, reached out from the stroller and snatched one of them little packs of vanilla wafer cookies. The kind that comes in a soft, bright yellow package. Before the lady could even say nothin’, the baby had already ripped the package open and shoved a whole cookie into its mouth. Little crumbs went flying onto the stroller blanket.
I paused my scanning. I had a line of three people now behind her, startin’ to build up. I said, real polite like, “Looks like the little one got ahold of those cookies, ma’am. I’ll go ahead and add ‘em to your total.”
She kinda squinted at me. “What? Oh, no, I’m not payin’ for those. He just opened them. He’s just a baby.”
I tried to keep my voice even, cuz this happens sometimes. “I understand, ma’am, but since they’re open, we can’t resell them. It’s store policy. Once they’re opened, they’re yours.” I pointed at the mess on the blanket. “And eaten, too, it looks like.”
She scoffed. “Are you serious? For a dollar fifty-nine? That’s just rediculous. You expect me to pay for somethin’ my baby just touched? It’s your fault for putting them there.”
Now, I’ve heard this one a million times. We put them there cuz it’s where they sell. It ain’t our fault if a baby grabs somethin’ while the parent ain’t lookin’. I repeated, a little firmer, “Ma’am, regardless, they’re opened. We can’t put ‘em back on the shelf. It’s just the rule. I gotta ring ‘em up.”
The baby started makin’ little fussy noises, maybe cuz of the crumbs, or maybe just bored. The mom, she kinda jostled the stroller. “Well, I’m not payin’ for them. You can just throw them out. It’s not fair. I shouldn’t be charged for a mistake. What kind of store does this?”
Behind her, I heard a fella sigh real loud. I could feel my patience wearin’ thin. I don’t like it when people try to make their problem my problem when it’s clearly their own. Rules are rules for a reason. If everyone just took what they wanted cuz their kid touched it, we’d loose a alot of money. I said, “Ma’am, I’m just doin’ my job. I have to add the cookies to your total. It’s not up to me to decide what gets paid for and what doesn’t when it’s been opened.” I looked at her directly. “You gotta pay for them. Or I can’t finish your order.”
Her face got all red. “Are you threatenin’ me? This is absalutely outrageous! I can’t beleive this! My baby made a small mistake, and you’re gonna make a big deal out of a dollar fifty-nine?”
“It’s not a big deal if you just pay for it,” I shot back, my voice maybe a little sharper then I meant. I was definatly gettin’ annoyed. She was actin’ like I was askin’ her for her firstborn, not a couple bucks for cookies her kid already opened and ate. I didn’t care what her problem was, she needed to follow the rules.
“You know what? This is just rude! I’ve never been treated so bad in this store! My baby is hungry! I just want to get my groceries and leave, and you’re makin’ a huge fuss over nothin’! Maybe I just won’t buy any of this then!” She gestured to her whole basket of groceries, like she was gonna just abandon it right there. The baby started to cry louder now, really whinin’ and makin’ a scene.
The fella behind her in line, the one who sighed earlier, leaned forward. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice kinda gruff. “Lady, just pay for the stupid cookies so we can all go home. Some of us got places to be.”
The mom whipped her head around at him. “Mind your own business! This is none of your concern! This cashier is bein’ completely unreasonable, and I don’t need you buttin’ in!”
I felt a surge of somethin’ like satisfaction that someone else seen how she was actin’. But also, a knot in my stomach. Now it was like a three-way standoff. I just stood there, my hand on the scanner, waitin’. I wasn’t gonna back down. Not for a dollar fifty-nine. It was the principle of the thing. If you break it, you buy it. Simple as that. I wanted to just ring it up and be done with it, but she was makin’ it impossable.
She glared at me again, then back at the fella behind her. Her baby was really wailin’ now, gettin’ louder and louder. I think the noise was makin’ her even more mad. She looked like she was about to just explode. Her face was bright red, and she was breathin’ hard. I was just hopin’ someone would call for a manager, but no one did, not even me. I just kept starin’ at her, waitin’ for her to make a desicion. I had a job to do and she was makin’ it so hard.
Just then, a kid in the line next to mine, a little boy, started gigglin’ real loud at somethin’ on his mom’s phone. It was that kind of high-pitched, infectious laugh, and for a second, it cut right through the tension. Everyone, even the baby, kinda paused for a second, lookin’ over. In that split second, I seen the woman grab her baby’s pacifier from her purse and shove it in the baby’s mouth. The wailin’ died down to a whimper.
I don’t know what happened next. Cuz just as the kid stopped gigglin’, my manager, Mr. Henderson, walked by the end of my aisle, lookin’ all frantic, talkin’ into his walkie-talkie. He looked over, probly heard the fuss, but then he just kept walkin’, muttering somethin’ about “aisle 7 spill.” He just kept goin’, real fast, like he didn’t even see us, or if he did, he decided aisle 7 was more important. That left me right back where I started.
I never did see what happened to her order. I had to quick switch off my light and go grab some more bags from the back room. We were runnin’ low, and I knew if I didn’t get ‘em, my next customer would get mad too. By the time I came back, the line was gone. The fella who spoke up was gone, and so was the lady with the baby. Her basket was gone too. I looked at the cookie display. The open pack was gone. I don’t know if she paid for it, if the manager came back, or if she just left all her groceries. I never seen her again that day, or for a few weeks after that. But sometimes, when I see a stroller with a little kid, I get a funny feelin’ in my gut. Like, one day she’s gonna come back, and she’ll be in my line again.
