Monday, December 28th, 2020

I stand, puzzled, in the space in the supermarket downstairs where people queue for the cashiers. Most of the lanes appear busy. Customers have left several carts there. Two have children in them. I head over toward the line for people with ten items or fewer. My arms are full of groceries, but I think I still qualify. When I pass the lane before it, the cashier slaps her hand on the counter and points to me. She doesn’t have a customer at the moment. I step around a cart and a child and drop my items on the conveyor belt. She rings me up quickly. I hand her my debit card. “Joseph,” she says. What? “Oh,” she says in English. “I thought that I remembered your name. I saw your card when you were here before. I see your card now. I was right.” They’ve changed the card reading mechanism to an electronic sensor. The customer usually holds the card up to it. She already has my card. She does it. She types something on a screen that I can’t see. An error appears on the sensor. “I shall try again.” It fails again. I reach for my other card. “No, we do not need that. This card will work.” She tries it a third time. Right when it beeps for the scan, she types a code. “We have success! Sometimes we have to type very fast.” I put my groceries in my bag. When the receipt prints out, she hands it and the card to me. “There you are. Have a nice --” She looks out the window. “Evening. Have a nice evening, Joseph.” I think I will.