Whole Foods

I had a miserable night at work.

My day started out wonderfully. I engaged in a discussion before work that got my brain juices oozy and slippery, and went to work feeling quite human.
Everything was going well until...

A large old black lady. Lots of jewelry. Whatever. Normal. I didn't look twice. She had a younger man with her. He said he was pulling the car up, and left right as the woman came up next in line.
I scanned a couple items, and asked her what kind of bags she wanted, looking at her. I look at people, to see if they're looking at me.
She wasn't. And she didn't answer.
"What kind of bags would you like?", I repeated. Now she looked at me.
"What?" she said.
A little louder now: "Would you like paper or plastic?"
She looked at the bagger and said, "What did he say?". That made no sense to me, I was standing closer to her than the bagger, if she can't understand me, less than two feet from her, how will she understand him? I was beginning to be annoyed.
I pointed at the paper bags, and I pointed at the plastic. She just looked at me. I have no idea what she could have been thinking.
The bagger stood there with some of her groceries and looked at her.
"Double shopping bags, " she says. (which means double paper.)
I rang up her order. Whatever. So she's hard of hearing, maybe has bad sight too. She's old. Forget it.
A younger woman came up to join her, maybe her daughter.
I finish ringing and tell the woman her total.
"What?" she said.
I said it again, and pointed at the large screen with her total on it.
"What?" she said again.
I could feel my temperature rising. I told her the total again, and she repeated the first part, and asked me what the second part was. I told her, as she went through her purse.
Her daughter was not helping.
The woman tossed some twenties on the counter in front of her purse without saying anything. I counted them, then she tossed a card on the counter and said something that sounded like:
"seewhatsonthat".
"what?" I said.
"She wants to see what's on her card," the daughter said.
"ok." I picked up the card and looked at it. No signature. The "This card is not valid until activated" sticker was still on it, and it looked old and weathered, as though it had been through some rough times with this woman. I felt a lot for that sticker.
I handed it to the daughter, and she slid it through the little machine.
"I want to use that before I use the cash. See if it works." This was the most the woman had said to me.
The card did not go through. My computer displayed "insufficient funds". I told them exactly what the computer said.
The daughter laughed, and the old woman said, "what?".
So I said it again, and she just kept looking at me. Did she want me to yell it? I could have yelled it at her. It might have felt good.
"It worked before, " she said.
I didn't know what else to say, and I didn't really want to say anything. I just wanted her to go away.
I picked up the cash she'd already put on the counter. It was the right amount. I counted it again. She watched me do it. Her daughter was still laughing. I wanted to laugh too. I really wanted something to laugh about. Someday she'll die. I gave the woman her change. She continued to stand there, not really looking at me. I moved slowly, but she didn't move or say anything.
Fine. I looked at the next guy, and began to ring up his order. The old woman went away slowly, with her daughter. My face was red, and I could feel my blood, pulse pulse pulse through my temple; my hands shook. I could have ripped the monitor off it's bolts and smashed it through the window screaming.

Then I heard a man's voice about ten feet behind me. It was the first guy, her son maybe. He was talking to my supervisor. "oh fucking oh no what the hell is going on" was all I could think. I turned around and looked at them. He looked at me. I treated her as well as I could figure. How the hell can I deal with someone that can't or won't communicate with me? Her son and daughter were no help. I felt like I was fucking set up, that I'd fallen into a trap.
I heard my supervisor call the store manager. "jesus fuck," I thought, and I'm stuck here in this register with a line of people expecting me to help them. I couldn't defend myself and I had nowhere to hide; I was naked.

The bagger had left, but another one came over. I told him a little bit of what was happening. I swore. I felt impotent. I was fucking pissed and said so. I was ringing up a mans order, he was little and white and probably 32. I was swearing and visibly angry and showing it. This is very rare for me, so I squeezed out a fast apology.
"Excuse me, " I said.
"Fucking niggers, " he said.

haguhopqgkl'agkl;'asgdklagdioqrewmpqvjalgd.

What? What? The bagger looked at me, and he said something loudly, "whoah," probably. He walked away.
"Oh no, " I said to the man, as I softly exhaled. "No. Anybody can be like that."
I looked at him. I know why he said it. I was in an obviously vulnerable state. I was sharing the kind of raw emotion that doesn't get seen. The kind that is released with your close friends, and sometimes not even then. He felt that as a bond.
And decided to share something secret of his own.
I know why he said it.
I don't know why he thought it.

I finished with him as quickly as I could.

I did not turn around again. I found the last two things that had occurred hard to believe. I did not want to know anything more. The store manager came over to me and asked me what had happened. I was still livid and trying to help another customer. I recounted, as well as I could, how difficult the woman had been, and told him exactly how I told her the card had been declined. I had been very careful, and told him that. He told me that I should run the card twice next time. I could have fucking pried all of his teeth out with vice grips and eaten his gums with a potato peeler.

The large old woman and her two friends or children were gone.
I spent the last 45 minutes of my shift (and my walk home) trying to calm down. I bought a bottle of bourbon. Bought dinner to go from McDonald's.
This is how I'll redeem myself.