That Guy

It was late, already five minutes after closing. One customer, an older gentleman, ambled to the register with his cartful of groceries. He was pleasant enough, chatting with each of us as we rang up his groceries.  But he turned out to be That Guy.

That Guy… meaning the guy who, after all his groceries were rung up, looked at his receipt and said, “I thought the bacon was a two-for-one sale.”

I looked it up.  “Yessir, it’s on sale, but it’s buy two, get one free.”

“I guess I’ll get one more, then,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

One of us would have quickly gotten it for him, but he wanted to do it himself.

That Guy ambled to the back of the empty store, took his time making his selection, then took a leisurely stroll back to the two of us who were waiting to help him.

“I can’t remember…,” he said. “Did I get maple-flavored bacon?”

“Yessir,” I said.

“Well, I don’t want maple.  I want the regular kind.”

We changed it for him, and then I rang it up.

“Wait,” he said. “How much is a single package of bacon.”

I told him.

“That’s too much to pay for bacon,” That Guy said.  “I don’t think I’ll buy any of it.”

I took it off the bill.

He gave us a cheerful goodbye as he shuffled off with his groceries. When he left the building, did he notice the parking lot was nearly empty?:

I wonder if That Guy thought we enjoyed his company so much that we appreciated staying late to accommodate him? Did he think his time was more valuable than ours? Did he care that the people who were waiting on him had sore feet and backs and had loved ones waiting for them to get home?

Were we even persons to him?

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