This morning, I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from the Y. (Note: NO, this is not just a subtle way to broadcast the fact that I GOT UP AND WORKED OUT AT 5:30 THIS MORNING. I'm beyond that.) I picked up the handful of items I wanted and went to the Express Line.
Uh oh. There were at least 10 people standing in the line that snaked around the shelves, and their sad, hopeless faces telegraphed that they were on a voyage of the damned. The only other open lane had two waiting carts stacked so high it appeared to be a preparation for an imminent nuclear winter.
I waited about three minutes, and the Express (!) cashier was still ringing up the same person. Based on my crack math skills, at that rate it would take 30 minutes.
I sighed. Not today, Satan. I stepped out of line, dropped my perishables into the nearest cold case and left the other stuff on a shelf and headed out the door. Something clearly was systemically wrong here.
On the way to my car, I saw a woman rushing in from the parking lot wearing a shirt and badge that identified her as an employee of the grocery store. And it occurred to me that she could be a missing cashier.
And then it occurred to me that maybe it wasn't something systemically wrong. Maybe it was something personally wrong, for a very specific, vulnerable, struggling fellow human. A sick child, or a flat tire, or a late bus.
So I gathered my righteous indignation back in to save it for another day, when it's more appropriate. And wondered if that day would ever really come.
I kinda hope not.
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