Best time to shop Walmart is between 4 and 5 on a Sunday morning. Though employees are probably not happy about it. What few shoppers are there have the potential of getting in the way of the massive restocking operation. Still, I prefer to go and maneuver around shelvers than shoppers, with their reckless carts, hundreds of them banging metalic rhythms, whole families three generations deep lingering in the aisles as if they were in a public park where kids run free and noisy, darting in and out, around center aisle standalone premium sales racks.
This early in the morning also meant being the only one (or nearly so) to be in line at checkout and the cashier unhurried, unharried seemed more pleasant in the exchange of small talk and smiles. Pleasant noncommital socialization, a bit of humanity and connection in the otherwise focused separate worlds. I like speaking with checkout folks—even if there is no real conversation, just an acknowledged exchange, for some reason I enjoy that. But now, early trips to Walmart to avoid the chaos of humanity now means missing out on the calming simple exchange as well...no more checkout people that early in the morning, only the self checkout is available.
Today I forgot to tell the machine (didn’t push the button) that I had brought my own grocery bag. So I figured I could balance the groceries on the scales, which I did and pretty successfully until the last things—the bananas and the apples and the eggs. Although everything checked out okay, it wouldn’t give me the total until the attendant came over to help. She was there before I even realized what had happened. I also realized at this point that I had my glasses in my mouth so I could see better. You know what I mean. See the screen closer up but I’m nearsighted so had to take off my glasses and had nowhere else to put them.
Anyway, attendant lady was suddenly beside me punching in numbers and codes and so forth at lightning speed, I mumbled an apology for forgetting to push the button for my own bag. She had on a white sweatshirt and had blond hair and red fingernail polish but I would never be able to pick her out in a line-up. She spoke no words to me, not even in response. And she was gone out of sight as quickly as she’d darted in. So even that was not at all any kind of human contact or connection.
As I write this, realizing I’m going to post it, I hear a friend’s voice ringing in my head, and flashes of things I’ve read that back up her comment, one should post what is beneficial to others in order to increase readership. How-to or self-help stuff. Or poignant insight.
I get that and I agree and don’t mean really to argue or refuse. I just don’t have any particular expertise or helpful anything. At this point, inane reflection is all I’ve got. Interesting how people can post lovely photographs and we look at them and ooh and ahh...but if we use words they have to be instructive, self-help (if it’s self-help, the old joke goes, then reading someone else’s how-to isn’t self-help...) or how-to...
So perhaps what I’m writing and have been writing means little...just going for the human contact thing...the bit of greeting and exchange...wondering if you have similar appreciation for customer checkout people...over chaotic and mindless shoppers...Later I might walk down town and sit on the bench outside a shop and maybe one or two others will sit with me and maybe we’ll strike up a confab on the way of things and reminisce about the good old days.
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