Grocery Story 1

I counted fifty-three carts waiting for the twenty-five checkout stanchions of the brand new, wonderful, everything naturally-grown, supermarket. Twenty of them were self-serve and blinking for assistance. Of the remaining five, three were staffed with trainee clerks and teen baggers who wanted to be anywhere but the supermarket. I took a place behind a wheelchair who was always a fast checkout, a battery-operated Jewish lady in a scooter and her graying son, one geezer in fatigues whose cart...