Selling Cabbage With a Flourish

"No, no, allow me to take care of everything," said the young man at the check out line. He made an elaborate gesture to shoo us into the narrow isle between two checkout lines, while he pulled up our shopping cart and began to take out the cucumbers, tomatoes, and watermelons for scanning.

This was at the supermarket this afternoon. Trust me, it was just an ordinary, no-frills supermarket, not some fancy, over-priced, faux European shops for snobs. Never have I met such an overzealous checkout guy or gal, here or anywhere.

He was in his mid-twenties, not very tall, a bit on the thin side, wearing the supermarket uniform. His light brown hair was combed back and gelled with a such a passionate stiffness that I almost blurted out, "How hard is your hair!" But I got hold of myself and remained silent, not without some effort.

"Plastic OK?" He asked earnestly, as if asking us how we liked a particular performance of Romeo and Juliet.

"Yeah ... sure." I was intimidated by such extravagance --- at a supermarket, of all places.

He busied himself with all the duties of a cashier: scanning the items, bagging them, summing up, taking the cash, and handing me the change. During this time I stared at him with fascination. He had a meticulously-trimmed beard with the same light-brown color as his hair. The mustache was not only carefully groomed, but the tips on the left and right sides were grown longer and impeccably curled and, probably waxed to keep their gravity-defying shape. The only time I had seen such a mustache was the fake-looking thing on the face of Hercule Poirot (or whoever played him on TV). This was as real as the toes on my feet.

"With your discount card, you have saved three dollars and so-and-so cents today with your purchase," he said it with no less emotion than Romeo when he uttered, "It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." He extended both hands dramatically toward the grocery bags on the counter, as if he were a magician pointing toward a box from which a white rabbit was to jump out any moment. I hurriedly grabbed the bags before the rabbit hopped out and thanked him and left.

Ah, now I kick myself. Why didn't I have the courage, or was I too astounded, to ask him right there and then, "Are you an actor between jobs? Perhaps you are researching for a role?"