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Rated: ASR · Draft · Drama · #2257357
Fiction, Drama, Inspirational

         The grocery store seemed to be having a busy day. The clerk was not giving the customer service that I had observed in the past. I know how it is, though, when a person is not having a great day and the customers make it hard to give good service. The woman in front of me had a small, but heavy, handheld basket in her arms. It was loaded with mostly canned goods, a half gallon of milk, and a few boxes of various crackers. I noticed that she was struggling to hold the heavy and full basket.

         In the checkout line next to the one that I was in, a small child was screaming like a banshee because its mother was not buying the candy bar that it so desperately wanted. The store was full and the noise of the crowd was hard to tolerate. My mind was spinning, and I was ready to throw down the few items that I was carrying and bolt out of there. But that is not acceptable for a fifty five-year-old man to do, so I held my ground and did what most people my age did. I waited.

         The woman in front of me was finally at the register and was unloading her basket onto the belt of the register. I was very happy for her since she seemed to be about my age and I knew how it was to have the pain of, almost, old age stripping the energy from your bones. I waited, still, patiently and calm, and I was thankful for my own medical condition, which made me disabled, and sent me early to retirement.

         I saw the struggle in the woman's demeanor and sensed the hurry in her eyes. She was rushing the clerk to finish the transaction.

         "Can you please have these groceries delivered to my apartment?, the woman inquired as she gave him her food stamp card to pay for her items.

         "I'm sorry, Mam” the clerk replied, as he looked at her with no pity and a lot of judgement. “You can only have groceries delivered if you use the app on your phone to order them and set up the time for pickup, but you can't pay for delivery with food stamps.”

         I was amazed at the attitude of the jerk of a clerk. I was starting to get angry for the poor woman and saw the embarrassment on her face. She was starting to tear up, so I stepped in.

         Where do you live? I will bring them to you if you'd like.” I said with a cold glance toward the clerk.

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