A Smile, A Kind Word

She works at a discount store. We didn’t actually meet, she and I, but her badge told me her name was Alice, and, of course, my ID told her all about me. By the time I walked away from Alice’s cashier’s line, I had sized her up.

I’d already tackled one store associate to ask, “How ’bout your coupon matching policy, . . . do you . . .blah, blah, blah, blah.”  

No problem. 

The associate instructed me how it worked, which I now repeated to Alice, who stepped in my face to tell me it didn’t apply. 

I ruffled newspaper ads in her bay, then outright fluffed the paper to show the circled ads. “So and so over there,” I pointed. “told me I could take your store brand in exchange for this store’s brand as long as it was the same size.” My bold and assertive resolve perked its ugly head. 

Alice whipped my groceries off her counter, and in a show of sour boredom, acknowledging me for the first time. “Well they’d never do that where I’m from!”  She rang up the ad’s price.

I felt like I needed to say something, “Where are you from?” 

“Pennsylvania.” Still no smile, no voice infliction, no arching eyebrows or searching eyes. And no explanation. 

I shifted my weight on the other foot. “Oh, have you been here long?” I asked cheerily.

“Yeah, almost a year.” She continued ringing up the groceries without looking up.

“Do you like it here?”

“It’s okay. Hot. This store isn’t like ours in Pennsylvania, I can tell you that for sure.”

“What brought you to Texas?” We were becoming blooming buds now, I figured. 

“My son lives here. He’s sick.” I could see the gloom that surrounded her.

Alice remained on my mind, until, one day, I forgot her. Weeks later, I waited in the truck while James ran into that same store for a quick item. He returned, mentioning that the lines were long and he expected to have to wait and wait, but an associate opened another register and grabbed him first, telling him, “You don’t want in that line anyway. She’s a grouch.” He chuckled.

When he said that, I knew. “Oh, you’re talking about Alice. She’s from Pennsylvania and she’s only been here  a year. She came because her son lives here, and he’s in bad health.” 

James looked at me blankly. 

I smiled, shrugged,  “Her name is Alice, she transferred here. And she is a grouch. She thinks Texas’ summers are hot.”

The next time I went through Alice’s register, I smiled and greeted her. She didn’t know me from a skin tag, but I knew her, and started chatting. “It’s stormy outside. Good thing we’re in here because it’s just started pouring. I guess we need this rain  . . . blah, blah, blah.” 

She wasn’t chatty in return. My stuff sacked, she said, “Oh, yeah, I have to ask this: do you want to contribute $1 for this?” She shoved a brochure to me and looked at me frankly.

“Sure,” I said. Alice added $1 to my bill and handed me my receipt. I slicked up my brightest smile and thanked her, adding that I hoped she would  have a wonderful day. I think that was supposed to be her line…I should get a job here!

Now ‘a days I go out of my way to go through Alice’s register whenever I see her working. She challenges me. There’s a deep, empty well there, and I want to pour something into it. Why do I care for her to find a piece of happiness somewhere, somehow. Why does it matter to me for her to think Texas people are friendly? Why do I want to see her smile? Smiles are contagious. Who knows that she won’t take one home and give it to her son.