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Mar. 29th, 2009 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phthalombrageI am at the grocery store. It's after 11 PM, Sunday night, and I've just got off the bus after dance. I wait in line at one of the only two lanes open, not the express line because I'm afraid I have too many items but haven't counted. A muscle in my right leg is pulled from a stupid grand plie, of all things, in Raymond's piece, and I shift my weight back and forth feeling it tug, feeling regretful that the self-checkout lines have closed for the night.
A girl with dark curly hair approaches balancing cartons and bottles of juice and shampoo and asks the man in front of me if she can have the basket on the floor under the conveyor. It takes him a second to respond, but he brightly says, "Oh, sure," and asks, "You got that?" after he hands it over and she fills it with the contents of her overloaded arms. She does. She leaves. I'm still waiting for the guy in front of him to be done having his groceries scanned so the separator bar can be moved and I can put all my groceries onto the belt. This happens; I begin to arrange things in order of weight, refrigeration, ability to be squished.
I notice the guy next to me looks Jewish. I dunno what he's buying, but I feel a little guilty for having bought a loaf of bread and some bagels so close to Passover. I worry that the rest of my purchases make me look too much like a typical college student. I wonder if he's judging me because I bought organic canned ravioli, like that makes it any healthier (there's no high fructose corn syrup, at least). I worry that I've bought too many starches and not enough fruits and vegetables and protein. I wish I could fit another fucking carton of juice in our fridge.
I worry about these things and more, and barely notice the interchange before the following phrases come flatly from the lips of our cashier, a man with grey hair and pads stuck to the nose-pieces of his wire-framed glasses which make the bridge of his long nose look very narrow indeed: "My cousin who lives with me, I found him dead this morning. I wanna get outta here, but I gotta stay around for my shift." "My condolences," says the man in front of me as he gathers his bags and leaves.
I can say nothing as my purchases are scanned. I hand him my Advantage card, scan my debit card, put them back in my wallet. I barely look at him as he hands me my folded receipt and a stupid coupon I got for buying refried beans. This is the real world. It amazes me how few of my friends are used to it.
A girl with dark curly hair approaches balancing cartons and bottles of juice and shampoo and asks the man in front of me if she can have the basket on the floor under the conveyor. It takes him a second to respond, but he brightly says, "Oh, sure," and asks, "You got that?" after he hands it over and she fills it with the contents of her overloaded arms. She does. She leaves. I'm still waiting for the guy in front of him to be done having his groceries scanned so the separator bar can be moved and I can put all my groceries onto the belt. This happens; I begin to arrange things in order of weight, refrigeration, ability to be squished.
I notice the guy next to me looks Jewish. I dunno what he's buying, but I feel a little guilty for having bought a loaf of bread and some bagels so close to Passover. I worry that the rest of my purchases make me look too much like a typical college student. I wonder if he's judging me because I bought organic canned ravioli, like that makes it any healthier (there's no high fructose corn syrup, at least). I worry that I've bought too many starches and not enough fruits and vegetables and protein. I wish I could fit another fucking carton of juice in our fridge.
I worry about these things and more, and barely notice the interchange before the following phrases come flatly from the lips of our cashier, a man with grey hair and pads stuck to the nose-pieces of his wire-framed glasses which make the bridge of his long nose look very narrow indeed: "My cousin who lives with me, I found him dead this morning. I wanna get outta here, but I gotta stay around for my shift." "My condolences," says the man in front of me as he gathers his bags and leaves.
I can say nothing as my purchases are scanned. I hand him my Advantage card, scan my debit card, put them back in my wallet. I barely look at him as he hands me my folded receipt and a stupid coupon I got for buying refried beans. This is the real world. It amazes me how few of my friends are used to it.
