On Shopping

I finished the last of my Christmas shopping today. Well, actually, I finished last week but I was in town so I thought I'd join the masses for one last kick at the cash. I don't remember ever being this ready for Christmas (I usually finish wrapping gifts on Christmas Eve) and I'm a little uncomfortable with all this extra time I now find on my hands. What to do? What to do?

Gifts are bought, wrapped and waiting patiently encircled beneath the Christmas tree waiting for their big unveiling. Meals are planned and groceries are not so neatly stuffed into my bulging cupboards. Baking is done and whatever didn't go into the garbage bin is now bundled in neat little folds of green and red cellophane ready for delivery to our special friends. Check, check and check.

Why do I now feel lonely for the Christmas crowds? It feels as though I have been standing in line since November. I'm normally an impatient shopper, however lately I've been quite content to stand in line like a good little consumer. Today, for instance, I was at the local Chapters store picking up a parcel for someone special. I love watching people, so as I stood, I carefully observed other people in the line as well as those lucky ones that landed a cashier. One outgoing shopper in a red wrap was engaged in an animated and friendly chat with one of the cashiers.

"That's nice," I thought, "isn't she friendly."

The girl standing in line behind me answered her cell phone. "I'm at Chapters now," she explained, "in line at the check out." She continued on as I returned my attention to the shopper in the red wrap who had belted out a big laugh.

"She's very self-assured," I thought. "To attract so much attention, and with such a long line up."

"I'll help the next person," called another cashier. I wonder if she cut class to work today or if she had already begun her Christmas break.

The self-assured shopper in the red wrap was taking her sweet time. As I took another step forward, I began to wonder if she was completely oblivious to the impatience rippling through the queue. Maybe she was just enjoying her time at the cash after patiently waiting for her turn.

I silently compared her behaviour to mine while I waited. When I get to any cash, and a long line of shoppers trails behind me, I feel obliged to complete my transaction with record-breaking speed. I believe, in fact, that if the check-out became an Olympic sport, I could bring the gold home to Canada. I swipe my card with speed and accuracy, use two-hands to punch in my PIN and press OK, return my card to my wallet and then cram it quickly into my purse and race from the cash with my goods in one hand and a receipt in the other, pulse racing, as I dash to the end of the velvet rope that marks the check-out exit. All that's missing is the banner breaking across my chest as I reach the doors...or a checkered flag...or a horn...anything really.

I move forward again and notice a woman and her child in the line. I barely knew the child was there. The last kid I saw in a line at Chapters flatly refused to move forward when a cash was available. The mother, I recall, grabbed the little boy's hand and half-dragged, half walked him to the cash as she gave apologetic looks to the other shoppers. This mother simply said, "OK sweetie, our turn," as she guided her daughter towards the waiting cashier.

"Quiet kid," I thought.

Move forward again. I realized that the self-assured shopper in the red wrap is gone. She must have left during my daydream.

There's a table right near the end of the line up that has stacks and stacks of tiny little books for teachers, Dad's, gardeners, women, friends, lovers, kids, and so on. Who reads these? Who dares step oh so slightly from the queue to glance at these nano-novels? What if someone passes you? What are the rules? Are there rules? For example, if Buddy is standing at the front of the line and a cash comes available, is it rude to bring this to Buddy's attention in the event that he doesn't hear her call? If I did this, would I be considered helpful or would I be labelled impatient or boorish?

Move forward again. I finally reach the head of the line. I'm next. Almost my turn.

I loathe the responsibility of the "head of the line." I feel as though I'm on alert and my stance changes. I bend my knees a little, edge up on the balls of my feet, ready to move at a moment's notice. I stare at a fixed point and rely on my peripheral vision to alert me to changes in the cash status as I listen carefully for the call of the vacant cash, "Can I help the next person?" Stupid huh? Yeah, but it's either waiting on high-alert or risk being Buddy.

A cash comes available but...wait...she didn't call me. What do I do? Do I move forward? What if she's going on break? How stupid would I look? Do I return to the head of the queue or do I lose my place and start again at the end of the line? My heart thumps. I make a grand gesture of looking towards her and think now that I must have looked as though I was about to take a seizure. It was my way of reassuring the other shoppers that I was aware of this development, that I was not Buddy; I did not need their intervention. Wait...she's asking another employee a question. And then...

"Can I help the next person please?"

I let out a breath and head to the cash. As she rings in my purchases, I whip out my card and hold it in my right hand, stripe to the left, on my mark....get set...go....I punch in the numbers, hit the big green OK button and then quickly return my card and wallet to my purse as the Approved notice pops up in the little window.

"Receipt in the bag OK?" she asks.

"That's fine," I reply.

I grab the bag in one hand, my purse in the other, and take long, brisk strides toward the doors...to the sounds of a cheering crowd in my mind.

Gold baby! That was gold.