Mr. Nice Guy

On his way into the grocery store, Kirk noticed a frail and elderly woman pushing her cart, and with a bow, he paused a moment to activate the automatic door for her. The poor woman had gone a bit senile, and eyes forward, face locked in permanent scowl, she rolled right past him. No thanks, no nod, but Kirk didn’t mind much.

He had company coming for dinner. A date, he supposed one might call it, their third, though they hadn’t yet used the vocabulary. Their first outing had been in the company of friends, their second in a museum. Tonight was the first time they would have real privacy, and he wanted the evening to be special.

  • Celery
  • Onions
  • Potatoes
  • Lamb Shank
  • Red Wine Vinegar
  • Red Wine
  • Scented Candles (Cinnamon? Guarana?)
  • Condoms
  • Vasaline
  • Playing Cards
  • Cucumber

He was about to check out when the old woman queued behind him. Though she hadn’t been appreciative before, he thought she might as well have another chance, and he waved her to the front of the line. As though he wasn’t even there, she shuffled forward and lifted her apples onto the conveyor one at a time. Kirk waited for any acknowledgment as she slowly filled out her check and made a note in the ledger. As she stomped away, he shook his head.

“Some people are just ungrateful,” the cashier said.

“Let’s just hope my date tonight is better.” The cashier did not laugh, though this was clearly a joke. He felt a little slighted.

#commerce, #entitlement, #idiot, #lonely, #microfiction, #misogyny, #resentment, #white-people

Racist

Because she’d heard a lot about the outskirts of town and its low low prices, Rebecca found herself in unfamiliar territory. Compared to her home suburbs, traffic was irredeemably congested, and entirely because pedestrians crossed the street whenever and wherever they wanted.

“Use a crosswalk!” she shouted at a mother and three children, though she hadn’t meant to yell. Her window was closed and no one heard her, but she was still embarrassed. Someone behind her honked, and she instinctively lurched forward, almost colliding with a jaywalking athlete who waved as he dodged and flew away.

As her pulse quickened, she began to mutter to herself. “It’s alright. Just get what you need and go.”

The thrift store was just as chaotic, but she kept her head down and concentrated. Her cart couldn’t kill anyone, and that alone made her more comfortable. In just a few minutes, she’d found a beautiful blue silk dress in exactly her size for four dollars, and a five dollar lamp with a full light spectrum.

Those two items alone justified the trip, but as she kept looking, she found a whole new wardrobe, all nicer than her current clothes, and a suit for her husband, too. She even found a ten dollar banjo, which seemed an absurd deal, and she’d always been meaning to learn.

“Did you find everything you were looking for today?” The woman at the cash register, elderly and Indian, seemed to genuinely want to know.

“Yes, and more,” Rebecca replied, “but is it always this crowded in here?”

The woman said nothing, mechanically scanning and folding Rebecca’s new possessions.

“I really like the selection and the prices, but there’s just so many people. It’s like we’re in Calcutta.”

The woman stopped. “No, these are Mexicans,” she said.

Rebecca nodded.

#awkward, #chaos, #classism, #crosswalks, #culture, #microfiction, #racism, #shopping, #white-people