All Lined Up

And recently while in the grocery store, the woman behind me remarked on how organised all my stuff was on the conveyor belt, waiting to be scanned by the cashier. I hadn’t really thought about it before, but I suppose it was kind of sorted… fruits and vegetables were mostly together, cold and frozen things were close to the meats, drinks were together, eggs and breads at the last. *shrugs*

It’s the natural way I tend to sort out the items, and I don’t think about it much, but I reckon it’s easier for the packer this way, too. And I hope my efforts will mean my bananas and tomatoes won’t get squished on the way home.

Today while getting groceries, I noticed the woman in front of me unloading the items from her carry basket lining up each of her items down the centre of the conveyor belt. Dead centre. And as she adjusted each food, she tapped it with her index finger four times.

Oh.

The cashier’s shoulders dropped and her eyes blinked with wariness when she saw this woman was next – she was familiar, I suppose – and she wordlessly bagged every single item of this lady’s order into individual produce bags before letting them slide past the scanner into the bagging section.

The woman in front of me whipped her head back suddenly, and I got a look at her face. She was rail-thin and just looked… exhausted. Just what you’d think a person with (what appeared to be) such rampant OCD might look like. Her narrow-set eyes darted around, almost suspiciously, and when they settled on mine, I smiled weakly. She just turned her head away away again.

I felt so bad for her.

The cashier kept her lips persed the entire time and just rang up the goods, and held her palm out for money, which the thin woman dropped into her hand, carefully, as not to make any contact.

I tried not to stare, but frankly, I was a bit fascinated. I watched the woman bag every single item into separate plastic bags, and leave the store. She had to have had close to thirty bags fluttering in her bony arms. Made me wonder what inside her house looks like.

When it was my turn at the register, the cashier rolled her eyes at me and gave me a lopsided grin. I leaned in and said, “It takes all kinds to make a world,” and smiled at her.

She raised her eyebrows and slowly blinked. “Madame, you wouldn’t believe how much of the world I’ve seen in this place,” and then she chuckled to herself as she scanned my stuff.

I don’t doubt it. Grocery store clerks have seen it all, I’m soooo sure.

And yet, I really wonder how tired a person must be to have to count everything, sort everything, tap everything, count again, separate, line up… Sure, I joke about having OCD, but in reality, mine is totally imaginary. Wow.