I survey the selections in the cold case. I meet the eyes of the worker behind the counter and request a pound of turkey.
She stares back and looks away before bellowing "Number nine!?"
I look to my left and then right - like I'm preparing to cross the road. There is nobody within fifty feet of the counter. I repeat my order.
"Are you number nine?" It is a cold reply.
"Uh, there is nobody else around," I again survey the area as I answer and gesture with my hands so she gets the point.
"Sir, we have a system, you must have a number or I can't serve you," she says flatly.
"Okay, I'm number nine." I smile.
"I need your ticket." She calls my bluff.
"Are you kidding me?" I feel the anger, but the situation is insane.
"Sir, we have a system." She now resembles a robot as she utters the standard response.
I evaluate the situation with the impulse to walk away, but I really need that turkey. I don't have to HAVE it, but it is on the grocery list so it needs to be crossed off. I clench my jaw and turn to the right and walk to the ticket dispenser. I return a minute later and place the ticket on the counter.
"Can I help you?" She smiles while depositing the ticket in the trash.
"I already told you what I want," I am defeated.
"Oh, can you repeat it?"
"A pound of turkey," I point at the specific meat. I watch as she slowly (deliberate?) prepares my order.
"Can I get you anything else?" The package lands on the counter with a thud.
"No," I want to tell her she needs a number to speak to me, but why bother.
No comments:
Post a Comment