While we sit and write, let’s remember the one who sits and sells.
Never shifting, just tapping. Eyes up, eyes down. Up-belt, down-belt. Four euros twenty. Eighteen dollars ten. Box, bottle, box, bargain-box, carton, special offer. Pack of six. Treat for just one.
Tap-tap. Thank you, and you.
The server of all. The short, the high and the mighty. Strutters, shufflers and soul-seekers. The swearers, the thinkers, the thankers and the mindless drifters. The charming, the rough, the unruly. The sprightly, the clearly sick and the maybe, maybe, sick-to-be.
Tap-tap. Take care.
The saver of faces. The condoms, the stain removers, the ladies’ things. The missing purse, the dollar short of the twelve. The blank looks ready for the rest of a blanker day.
Tap-Tap. Till later.
The sustainer of lives. Of life. Of normality. Of the peace and the odd, precious pleasure. Bless you, checkout girl, our regular, tolerant, eyes-up eyes-down daily saint, for braving the storm. To sit there, tapping.
Because you do it so well, we can all keep trying.