I really loved this story. You write so beautifully. I’ll stand in line for the cashier every time. My husband goes right to the self checkout. Just a couple of weeks ago, when I was at a Wegmans grocery store in Rochester, NY (I mention the name because it is a great grocery store!) I was behind a customer who didn’t have enough money. The cashier took out a bag of Oreo cookies and a few other things from her bag…I’m not sure why I responded so quickly but I told the cashier I’d pay for the items that this older woman didn’t have enough cash for. I think the total cost me about $11.00. It felt so nice paying it forward and my small gesture meant a lot to this woman. The cashier then chatted with me when she was checking me out. She was very young and told me that if she had enough money she’d have done the same. She went on to explain that her twin sister was going through some hard times and any extra money she had helped to support her. All in all this was maybe a ten minute situation but all of us involved felt better about each other and ourselves at the end of it!
So glad you shared this "just a couple of weeks ago" story, Amy (and Rona, for the wonderful prompt). It affirms what it seems many are struggling to believe: We all matter to each other, and we have points of connection at every turn.
Your beautiful, poignant words helped break through the despair I’ve been feeling all week. Thank you. It also reminded me of James McBride’s wonderful book, The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store. He also knew how much comfort and humanity could be found behind the counter of a grocery store.
I love this post, Rona. I always pick the human cashier too. I may have mentioned this already, but my grandfather and his four brothers ran a small grocery chain in southern Missouri, and when I was little, those stores carried everything, clothes, shoes, fabric and notions, hardware, etc, as well as groceries, and they were centers of their small communities. All but one are gone now, because of Walmart.
I worked retail for years. I don’t like self-checkouts unless I’m really in a hurry and I have a couple of items. Otherwise, I want to talk to people. Human connection means a lot to me.
It depends. Sometimes I don't feel like chatting (rare) so I don't inflict my surly self on a cashier and check myself out but usually I want to check in with Lisa the cashier who's also a baseball fan; I will stand in line to interact with her and shoot the breeze about the Jays. In a similar vein, just yesterday I was having a late breakfast and found myself sitting at a counter looking out the window next to a young man with his arm in a sling and the slightly bleary face of someone on painkillers. The lovely young woman serving us delivered his meal, leaned in and whispered in his ear "Do you want me to cut it up?" He shook his head "No" and I could see his meal was soft and cuttable with the edge of a fork, which is exactly what he did. The server checked on him regularly and he ordered a takeaway breakfast for his roommate. He paid with a debit card and then he left a $10 bill under his mug before he left. Their entire, dear interaction left me tight-throated and teary. When I ordered my second coffee, I told the server how much I loved how kind she had been. She thanked me and hid behind giggles of embarrassment. I left her a big tip and tracked down the manager on my way out and said I'd be returning because of that server, who made my day in so many ways. Please and thank you. I'm SO GLAD you were my server today.
As always, your writing is so crisp and clear and elegant. You make your point with scenes instead of arguing against self-checkout. It's why I regularly shop at Jacob's Meat Market, a neighborhood corner grocer near City Park, that has been in business for three-generations. Best butcher in town. Penny candy selection still in same spot as when I was in high school. And where everyone knows the cashier by name.
Thank you, Jill. How interesting that you make your home in the same town where you went to high school. It must be a more welcoming place than my frosty little hometown in New Hampshire.
I was a townie who attended the local college, leff for 40 plus years, and long after family had moved away did I then move back to the Midwest and found Appleton had what I was looking for in terms of quality of life and cost of living.
The communion of humans at the grocery checkout; the cashier and the bagger. Both caring about me and my well-being, sorting my purchases for safe travel, and asking if my large reusable bags are too heavy. Then exchanging well wishes as we part.
Small things on the surface, but so cheering. At Publix they always ask if you need help getting your bags to the car. I never do but appreciate the offer.
I’ve worked retail for decades and I only had to operate a cash register for one shift in all that time. I’d received zero training and it was the Saturday before Christmas, the busiest shopping day of the year. But I was on the clock and there was nobody else to do it. It was beyond disastrous for both the customers and poor me. Total confusion—I think I’d rather take a shot at doing a hip replacement instead of cashing people out. Coupons, loyalty cards, items without UPC tags, glowering looks of absolute hatred and scorn from customers who’d made the mistake of getting into my line. My employers never asked me to work at the checkout again.
Rona, this was so detailed and beautifully written. Thank you for sharing. This deserves a thousand restacks and at least a million likes.
Well, you made short work of THAT problem. I stopped asking my husband to cook his share of dinners when I wearied of his two options: canned corned beef with instant mashed, and frozen fish sticks with peas.
Thank you for the reminder to look for the helpers, Rona 🩵 My great grandparents were Russian Jewish immigrants too. Though I don’t know anything really about them other than what I could find on the internet and the very little my uncle knew.
I have painted a picture of them in my mind of who I’d like to think they possibly were. Brave for escaping and kind to all.
My first jobs were all retail/cashier jobs and I remember the flustered feeling of a first day. Especially on a machine that I wasn’t used to. One of my favorite jobs was as a bank teller in Sedona, AZ. I got to meet some of the best people and loved my regulars. Sedona is quite small, a town of about 10,000, so it was easy to learn everyone’s names, most being retirees as well. I miss it sometimes, that kind of human connection I had with so many there.
Now, I build it in other ways and try very hard to be as open as I can with the people at my current job. I’ll admit that after this week’s election results I have closed myself off a bit, I no longer feel safe or comfortable around those I know of who went down the path of dark side. Doing my best to not allow myself to completely close off, while at the same time keeping a weary eye open.
Thank you always for sharing with us and reminding us of the kindness in the world 🩵🩵
I’m glad you enjoyed this, Mesa. And glad I never had to work the cash. It’s hard enough using a credit card to cash out of a restaurant, what with all the differences between machines.
Thank you for this, Rona. Very poignant and a great reminder to be patient with others and ourselves, especially now. I sometimes opt for self checkout but I've never gotten an EZPass and so always interact with the highway toll takers. How they remain friendly and courteous is a marvel...and a mystery.
Before the pandemic, there were toll takers in Florida who gave out dog treats. They made our dog so happy, toll takers have filled him ever since with a crushing sense of letdown.
Beautiful story! I do both self check out (when I'm short on time) and wait in line for the cashier to ring up my purchases. I prefer the latter as it gives me a chance to interact with people from my small community.
Years ago, when my son was in high school, he worked in a grocery store. During this time he wore many hats and was quickly promoted to store manager. He was always a bit shy but the years at the market allowed him to engage and assist others on a personal level which, in turn, changed him.
I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for grocery store employees and the tireless work they do.
That was lovely, Rona, thank you.💕 I worked retail for 14 years so I’ve seen it all, terrible customers and great ones. I make it a point to go through personal checkouts to engage with the workers. I know my grocery store staff by name and I am always kind and patient.
What a great experience you had, and I’m so glad you wrote in to commend the person who helped you build your cart.💕
I find that in the check out line (at Publix), I can always show empathy and kindness. Just a smile can make a difference. If someone is behind me with just a few things or if they have a small child, I usually offer to let them go ahead. I also often ask if the checker or bagger would like a candy bar. It’s my way to spread a little joy.
As an ex retail manager (after military “service”…yes, service) we tried to put the good ones on the front line for both seniors’ day and welfare wednesday. With some stores it’s a conscious choice who gets to serve whom. Cuz yanno we all deserve the respect and assistance when we need it most.
I hear that some stores overseas have introduced slow lines especially for the lonely and those needing extra help. The best cashiers must work these lines.
I recently completed training in community storytelling and learned how stories can create connection, bridge differences, and remind us of our shared humanity. I love your stories, Rona, because they are perfect examples. I warmly recommend Mark Yaconelli’s book Between the Listening and the Telling: How Stories Can Save Us.
I really loved this story. You write so beautifully. I’ll stand in line for the cashier every time. My husband goes right to the self checkout. Just a couple of weeks ago, when I was at a Wegmans grocery store in Rochester, NY (I mention the name because it is a great grocery store!) I was behind a customer who didn’t have enough money. The cashier took out a bag of Oreo cookies and a few other things from her bag…I’m not sure why I responded so quickly but I told the cashier I’d pay for the items that this older woman didn’t have enough cash for. I think the total cost me about $11.00. It felt so nice paying it forward and my small gesture meant a lot to this woman. The cashier then chatted with me when she was checking me out. She was very young and told me that if she had enough money she’d have done the same. She went on to explain that her twin sister was going through some hard times and any extra money she had helped to support her. All in all this was maybe a ten minute situation but all of us involved felt better about each other and ourselves at the end of it!
Amy, I was hoping someone would share a story about precisely this. And here you are! Thank you for chiming in.
So glad you shared this "just a couple of weeks ago" story, Amy (and Rona, for the wonderful prompt). It affirms what it seems many are struggling to believe: We all matter to each other, and we have points of connection at every turn.
The catastrophic election was real. These moments are real too.
Not only that-but it’s memorable for you. Little gestures are more valuable than dollars!!
Agreed. Here we are, remembering together.
Your beautiful, poignant words helped break through the despair I’ve been feeling all week. Thank you. It also reminded me of James McBride’s wonderful book, The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store. He also knew how much comfort and humanity could be found behind the counter of a grocery store.
Wow, Barbara. I never heard of that book until now and love the title. Glad I could offer a tonic in this week of devastation.
One of my favorite books in the last year. Brilliant writing that beautifully illustrates our connections and the collective need for them.
You never know what you’ll learn in a comments thread.
I have never heard of this book either. I just ordered it; thanks for the recommendation!
Oh you have to read it! It’s lovely!
I love this post, Rona. I always pick the human cashier too. I may have mentioned this already, but my grandfather and his four brothers ran a small grocery chain in southern Missouri, and when I was little, those stores carried everything, clothes, shoes, fabric and notions, hardware, etc, as well as groceries, and they were centers of their small communities. All but one are gone now, because of Walmart.
So we have another thing in common besides women’s magazines. This is a good one.
Yes, that’s right! Hanging out and “helping” my granddad at the store in their town is one of my key childhood memories.
I worked retail for years. I don’t like self-checkouts unless I’m really in a hurry and I have a couple of items. Otherwise, I want to talk to people. Human connection means a lot to me.
You seem to have a gift for it, Zina. Connection, I mean. Self-checkout actually slows me down because I am flummoxed by it and need help.
It depends. Sometimes I don't feel like chatting (rare) so I don't inflict my surly self on a cashier and check myself out but usually I want to check in with Lisa the cashier who's also a baseball fan; I will stand in line to interact with her and shoot the breeze about the Jays. In a similar vein, just yesterday I was having a late breakfast and found myself sitting at a counter looking out the window next to a young man with his arm in a sling and the slightly bleary face of someone on painkillers. The lovely young woman serving us delivered his meal, leaned in and whispered in his ear "Do you want me to cut it up?" He shook his head "No" and I could see his meal was soft and cuttable with the edge of a fork, which is exactly what he did. The server checked on him regularly and he ordered a takeaway breakfast for his roommate. He paid with a debit card and then he left a $10 bill under his mug before he left. Their entire, dear interaction left me tight-throated and teary. When I ordered my second coffee, I told the server how much I loved how kind she had been. She thanked me and hid behind giggles of embarrassment. I left her a big tip and tracked down the manager on my way out and said I'd be returning because of that server, who made my day in so many ways. Please and thank you. I'm SO GLAD you were my server today.
Now, that’s kindness in action. Bet you carried the glow all day. She certainly earned the big tip.
As always, your writing is so crisp and clear and elegant. You make your point with scenes instead of arguing against self-checkout. It's why I regularly shop at Jacob's Meat Market, a neighborhood corner grocer near City Park, that has been in business for three-generations. Best butcher in town. Penny candy selection still in same spot as when I was in high school. And where everyone knows the cashier by name.
Thank you, Jill. How interesting that you make your home in the same town where you went to high school. It must be a more welcoming place than my frosty little hometown in New Hampshire.
I was a townie who attended the local college, leff for 40 plus years, and long after family had moved away did I then move back to the Midwest and found Appleton had what I was looking for in terms of quality of life and cost of living.
The communion of humans at the grocery checkout; the cashier and the bagger. Both caring about me and my well-being, sorting my purchases for safe travel, and asking if my large reusable bags are too heavy. Then exchanging well wishes as we part.
Small things on the surface, but so cheering. At Publix they always ask if you need help getting your bags to the car. I never do but appreciate the offer.
I’ve worked retail for decades and I only had to operate a cash register for one shift in all that time. I’d received zero training and it was the Saturday before Christmas, the busiest shopping day of the year. But I was on the clock and there was nobody else to do it. It was beyond disastrous for both the customers and poor me. Total confusion—I think I’d rather take a shot at doing a hip replacement instead of cashing people out. Coupons, loyalty cards, items without UPC tags, glowering looks of absolute hatred and scorn from customers who’d made the mistake of getting into my line. My employers never asked me to work at the checkout again.
Rona, this was so detailed and beautifully written. Thank you for sharing. This deserves a thousand restacks and at least a million likes.
Well, you made short work of THAT problem. I stopped asking my husband to cook his share of dinners when I wearied of his two options: canned corned beef with instant mashed, and frozen fish sticks with peas.
Rona, I think he was trying to poison you. Better watch out if he comes home with an oil drum or some bags of ready-mix concrete.
Still married after 54 years. He seems to have decided I’m a keeper.
That’s a relief! I was starting to chew my nails worrying about you.
Thank you for the reminder to look for the helpers, Rona 🩵 My great grandparents were Russian Jewish immigrants too. Though I don’t know anything really about them other than what I could find on the internet and the very little my uncle knew.
I have painted a picture of them in my mind of who I’d like to think they possibly were. Brave for escaping and kind to all.
My first jobs were all retail/cashier jobs and I remember the flustered feeling of a first day. Especially on a machine that I wasn’t used to. One of my favorite jobs was as a bank teller in Sedona, AZ. I got to meet some of the best people and loved my regulars. Sedona is quite small, a town of about 10,000, so it was easy to learn everyone’s names, most being retirees as well. I miss it sometimes, that kind of human connection I had with so many there.
Now, I build it in other ways and try very hard to be as open as I can with the people at my current job. I’ll admit that after this week’s election results I have closed myself off a bit, I no longer feel safe or comfortable around those I know of who went down the path of dark side. Doing my best to not allow myself to completely close off, while at the same time keeping a weary eye open.
Thank you always for sharing with us and reminding us of the kindness in the world 🩵🩵
I’m glad you enjoyed this, Mesa. And glad I never had to work the cash. It’s hard enough using a credit card to cash out of a restaurant, what with all the differences between machines.
Thank you for this, Rona. Very poignant and a great reminder to be patient with others and ourselves, especially now. I sometimes opt for self checkout but I've never gotten an EZPass and so always interact with the highway toll takers. How they remain friendly and courteous is a marvel...and a mystery.
Before the pandemic, there were toll takers in Florida who gave out dog treats. They made our dog so happy, toll takers have filled him ever since with a crushing sense of letdown.
Beautiful story! I do both self check out (when I'm short on time) and wait in line for the cashier to ring up my purchases. I prefer the latter as it gives me a chance to interact with people from my small community.
Years ago, when my son was in high school, he worked in a grocery store. During this time he wore many hats and was quickly promoted to store manager. He was always a bit shy but the years at the market allowed him to engage and assist others on a personal level which, in turn, changed him.
I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for grocery store employees and the tireless work they do.
Bet your son’s skill in dealing with customers has served him well in whatever career path he chose. Thank you for sharing.
That was lovely, Rona, thank you.💕 I worked retail for 14 years so I’ve seen it all, terrible customers and great ones. I make it a point to go through personal checkouts to engage with the workers. I know my grocery store staff by name and I am always kind and patient.
What a great experience you had, and I’m so glad you wrote in to commend the person who helped you build your cart.💕
Thank you, Sheila. This young man has a special place in my memory. About time I told readers about him.
Retail workers so seldom get thanks or even acknowledgment, so your actions have given you a huge deposit in the Karma bank.💕 Kudos!
I find that in the check out line (at Publix), I can always show empathy and kindness. Just a smile can make a difference. If someone is behind me with just a few things or if they have a small child, I usually offer to let them go ahead. I also often ask if the checker or bagger would like a candy bar. It’s my way to spread a little joy.
Best reason ever to carry candy bars!
I actually purchase them. So convenient that the candy is right next to the checkout. I, myself, have limited discipline when it comes to candy.
Definitely the cashier line!
As an ex retail manager (after military “service”…yes, service) we tried to put the good ones on the front line for both seniors’ day and welfare wednesday. With some stores it’s a conscious choice who gets to serve whom. Cuz yanno we all deserve the respect and assistance when we need it most.
Thank you so much for pointing this out!
I hear that some stores overseas have introduced slow lines especially for the lonely and those needing extra help. The best cashiers must work these lines.
Wish all were like that.
Gosh, thanks. I needed this.
Glad you enjoyed it, Hannah.
I recently completed training in community storytelling and learned how stories can create connection, bridge differences, and remind us of our shared humanity. I love your stories, Rona, because they are perfect examples. I warmly recommend Mark Yaconelli’s book Between the Listening and the Telling: How Stories Can Save Us.
How interesting. I need no convincing that stories can save us, especially when combined with empathic listening.
The teen volunteers at the craft show, offering solace and advice, assurances that they will live on and fight for good.
Yes. It fills the heart to meet young people who have their priorities straight.