I stood in line at the grocery store the other day listening to a woman crab at the checker. The young man stood silent, nodding, occasionally murmuring his apology. She chastised the store for being out of her favorite brand of something, the sacker for using the wrong type of bag, and the world at large for getting in her way time and time again. All the while, she fumbled in a coin purse for the extra change needed to pay her bill, until the clerk finally waved away her pennies and cashed her out.
The old lady tightened her sweater over her hunched shoulders and grabbed the basket handle. She pushed forward a few inches and then darted a glance at me over her shoulder. I broadened my smile, mindful of the potential of appearing to laugh. She shook her head, scrunching her face and wrinkling her nose. I smoothed the smile into a calm expression and settled onto my heels, waiting for the woman to clear the space before I started to unload the rest of my groceries.
The clerk greeted me and I replied. He asked if I had found everything, and I acknowledged that I had, with a sweep of my hand over the pile of food on the conveyor belt. He laughed and started ringing my purchases. You were very patient with that lady, I told him. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. I studied his face, trying to decide his age. I figured late high school or early college at most. The kid at the end asked, Paper or plastic? and we continued on like that, until the point of payment. As I scanned my debit card, I tried again to compliment his patience.
She reminded me of my grandmother, he told me. She seemed kind of sad, though, maybe lonely. I didn’t take anything personal.
As I pushed my cart towards the parking lot, I thought about that kid and his grandmother. Lucky, lucky woman. I sent a little wish towards the universal fountain of goodness, hoping it would find its way to that lonely old lady. Then I took myself home.
It’s the thirteenth day of the thirty-fourth month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.
