MAGIC         PORK

I was on my way into the East Ave Wegman’s to pick up a few things. (Those of you outside Rochester, Wegman’s is THE local grocery store chain.) Some workers are collecting shopping carts from the parking lot, but really chatting more than anything else. There’s a big truck in reverse waiting for them to get these carts they have out of the way so he can leave, but they’re oblivious to that and just keep chatting.

Fast forward.. I’m now in the “7 items or less” line. The line next to that is the other “7 items or less” line that has two cashiers, one accessed from inside and one from the outside. Those that have been there probably know what I’m talking about, and those that haven’t, it’s not important. Just setting the scene if you will.

I realize as I put my groceries on the belt that I actually have 9 items, but there’s a couple of items of the same type so I think - it’s really 7, right? The cashiers in the next row over are a young white girl, I’d say about 17 years old, and a skinny black boy of the same age, who looks nothing like P. Diddy. They’re talking loudly about whatever, while scanning stuff. The boy yells over to my cashier, who’s helping the customer before me, “What shoe size do you wear?”.

My cashier is a young black man, maybe 19-20. He doesn’t say a word and cocks his head toward the loud kid to indicate that he didn’t hear him. “What shoe size do you wear?”. Again cocks his head. “What shoe size do you wear?”. Still doesn’t hear him. Meanwhile the customer in front of me is waiting for his change which is in the guy’s hands. The girl says “shoe size”. “15″. The girl says to the loud kid, “it’s 15, not 13″. Must be something they were debating about. This was all going on while they had customers too of course.

Now that the guy in front of me is done, I step up. Cashier doesn’t say a word to me or even look at me as he’s scanning my things. Then again I don’t say anything to him either, but I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect the cashier to be the first to say hi. Doesn’t bother me though.

I scan my credit card and Shopper Club card through the machine. I’ve had that same Shopper Club card for at least a decade at this point. I’ve never had it replaced since I started shopping at Wegman’s, which I’m guessing was back in ‘96 when I was living in the Racquetclub apartments. The card has a yellowish tint on the back, the signature area has been scraped off, but the magnetic strip still works fine. One swipe, every time.

The cashiers next row over now don’t have any customers and the guy starts singing a song to himself. The girl asks him “what’s your name?” At least I heard the girl, but I don’t see her anywhere. Then I notice just her hand on the counter - what, is she bending over to get something? The kid says “Bob, but people call me Diddy”. My cashier starts laughing and shaking his head. Bob says “They do. They call me Diddy Bob.”

More laughing from my cashier. I’m smiling at this point too. Diddy Bob continues “I’m just sayin’… That’s what people call me.”, etc. My cashier yells over to the cashier on the other side, a black girl, “Hey (so-and-so), he says they call him Diddy”. She yells back “he don’t even look like no Diddy!” Kid shrugs, “I don’t know, that’s what they call me! Diddy Bob.”

I take my receipt and groceries. The cashier starts helping the next people and it’s then that I see what the white girl was doing. She’s sitting on the floor inside her cashier-area with her hand up on the counter. She yells something to them too, but I don’t hear what it is because I’m still trying to grasp the fact that she’s just sitting on the floor. Not even squatting, relieving her legs a little - outright sitting, on her butt, examining the nails on her right hand that’s not up on the counter, while shouting to the other cashiers.

– End scene –

This entry was posted on Saturday, February 11th, 2006 at 9:42 pm and is filed under general. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.