A CASHIER'S TALE

I LIKE THAT I work as a cashier these days. 

Today, I lift my eyes from the computer screen and smile at the woman standing across from me at my work station.

“How much is this baby?” she says and holds up her sweet-faced toddler. At that moment, she sets her son on the conveyor belt and pats his bottom.

I play along and say, “One million dollars.”

Infrared Scanner

The woman pulls the scanner wand from its cradle and pushes the trigger with her index finger. She scans its infrared beam over the child’s body and points it directly on his angelic face. She hears me pull in my breath as I reach for the instrument and she pushes it toward me. I set it back in its cradle and smile at her.

“This is common where I come from,” she says.

I detect her Australian accent and wonder if her generalization of her countrymen’s conduct is true.

“Don’t do that. It’s dangerous,” her male companion says. He states the obvious.

He lifts the boy from the conveyor belt and puts him into the shopping cart. We all listen to the child’s wailing until the transaction is complete and they leave the building.

I smile and welcome the next shopper.

Susan the Cashier