THE WELCOME MAT

short fiction

Shirley Pilferson left her house at 2:14 p.m. to go buy groceries. She had no more food left, except for a couple boxes of macaroni and cheese dinners. But she had grown weary of macaroni and cheese dinners. She was macaroni-and-cheesed out.

The grocery store she went to was called Bingman Foods. Mr. Bingman was the owner/manager of Bingman Foods. He had been Bingman’s owner/manager since he opened the store, about twenty-eight years earlier. Mr. Bingman was a good manager, many thought, despite his penchant for flirting with the young cashiers. Mr. Bingman did not have a wife—he had never had a wife—so in at least half-truth he could in some ways get away with flirting with the young cashiers.

When Shirley Pilferson stepped on the automatic door-opening mat, which automatically opened the sliding glass doors of Bingman Foods, where Mr. Bingman was the owner/manager, Shirley Pilferson noticed at once that Mr. Bingman was flirting with a young cashier at one of the cash registers. This one was a redhead—Mr. Bingman usually could be found flirting with a blonde—and she wore a pretty little skirt and pleasant top. The redhead was smiling and laughing and gesturing and nodding and smiling and laughing and nodding and gesturing. When Shirley stepped in, they both stopped their flirting and turned to look at their incoming customer.

'Good afternoon,' said Mr. Bingman. 'Welcome to Bingman Foods. How can I help you?'

Shirley shook her head. 'I’m fine, thanks for asking.' She went about her business, pushing a cart and looking at her list, which did not include macaroni and cheese dinners.

Mr. Bingman and the redhead returned to their flirting.

*

After she had chosen all the groceries she had on her list, Shirley Pilferson decided that enough was certainly, undoubtedly, most definitely, enough. So she made her long and purposefully wending way (she liked to push the cart in a swerving manner, much like a race car warming up on an Indy track) to the front of the store, where Mr. Bingman and the redhead now were simply standing around separately and not saying anything. When the redhead saw Shirley approaching the register, the redhead’s face brightened. But it was a brightening that had been practiced after much instruction from Mr. Bingman. WHEN THE CUSTOMER APPROACHES YOUR REGISTER, he instructed, BRIGHTEN YOUR FACE.

The redhead turned on the black conveyor belt that transported the grocery items close enough so she could grab them and scan them across the little square glass where the unseen laser beam was and thus cause the price of each item to appear in green LED on an oblong screen where the customer—in this case, of course, Shirley Pilferson—could readily and easily see.

The two women did not speak; Shirley was not in the mood for speaking; it was getting late and she had to get home and feed her cat and watch a soap. The redhead scanned the items and grouped them into plastic bags and put the plastic bags into Shirley’s cart.

Mr. Bingman stood at a distance, watching.

*

When all the items had been scanned, the total calculated and Shirley’s check written and approved, Mr. Bingman offered to push the cart of Shirley Pilferson out to her car. She refused quietly, with the wave of a hand.

By the time she was outside, she did not look back. But it was true that Mr. Bingman and the redhead commenced with their flirting, the redhead nodding and gesturing and smiling and laughing.

As for Shirley’s remainder of her afternoon, it was quite pleasant once the groceries had been put away and the cat fed. And the soap was wonderful. It really was a wonderful thing.