In The Checkout Line

By Julie Potter

Being a receipt printer isn’t so bad.

Sure, spitting out strips of paper can get tiring, especially when the lines seem never ending and there’s more returning than buying. But it’s fun to see the cashiers work—some of them make the most memorable faces typing in products! And sometimes, I’m the closest audience to watch the really interesting customers. 

I’ve seen it all: attempted theft, successful theft, nice people, rude people, and the occasional dog or little human. I’ve recorded receipts with a six hundred total or as little as a dollar. (Some buyers tend to be quite enthusiastic about their spending. Sometimes I wonder if I’d be the same as a human, carrying a shopping bag like my cord connected to the register computer.)

No matter if the items are large or small, in a mosaic of colors or shapes or all one type, all buyers have one thing in common: their phones. Some forget to bring them in. Some hand them over to their little humans. Some try to balance paying and tapping on theirs at the same time. There must be another world in these little rectangles, because I cannot figure out what is so enticing about them.

The most fascinating thing about phones is “calling.” This is what the sounds that come out of these colored shapes are often from. Most buyers turn off these sounds as they approach the register, but you’ll have an odd one that speaks towards the air, or who talks into the rectangle while they’re hauling items on the counter. My cashier friends sprout little frowns and forehead wrinkles whenever this happens.

Today it’s an elderly couple. They’re first in a line so long it reaches behind me. I can hear a faint, high-pitched voice speaking through the rectangle. A daughter? An in-law? It doesn’t matter to me much. Wondering about this stuff keeps me less impatient when waiting to do my job.

My cashier continuously reaches for more items. The couple talks at their rectangle in the background. I wonder when they are going to pay. I’d gladly print multiple receipts for them: it’s my purpose, after all, and I love doing it.

Another voice joins the chaos, sounding even higher through the glowing box. A little human, maybe? My cashier frowns, which I know means she really dislikes this. She reaches across the counter to grab an item. 

A garbled melody comes through the box now and the couple follows it, a mishmash of musical notes and multiple voices. Singing? Whatever the song is, it seems familiar to my cashier, who raises her eyebrows a bit as she continues to ring up items. She frowns for a second, before letting it fade to what I call a “helping smile.” I know what she’s really thinking, and I feel very accomplished. I am also confused and entertained. It’s not often that I see people react this expressively. I think this is like watching what humans call “television.” 

Calls like these usually last a couple minutes for each person, maybe more if the line goes fast. But this call continues. My cashier shifts side to side, doing it more as time passes. She finally presses the screen button for printing, and I offer up the long, long paper with the most enthusiasm a mere receipt printer can. 

“Well,” I hear her say to herself, still smiling, “I didn’t expect someone to sing happy birthday to their nephew in front of me.”

I’m not exactly sure what a “nephew” or “birthday” is, but I think I understand how this human feels. It’s not every day that a glowing rectangle entices one to burst out in song in a checkout line.