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Checkout
Chick Secrets
Carl
Jung once said the meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two
chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed.
Which means that all contact has the chance to be a profound and
uplifting experience. I am a
regular witness to this fact. I
have found that true love and magical moments regularly touch our days, often in
the most mundane circumstances.
I
was at the check out counter, purchasing my fortnightly grocery shopping.
She was the checkout chick. A
sweet young thing who had the indifference of previous shoppers sharpening her
own indifference, and her underlying desire for conversation.
I asked a few obvious and polite questions, “How are you?” “How has
your day been going?” She
answered with the obvious and polite answers.
I asked her to put the large dry dog food into a plastic bag.
She immediately complied.
At
that moment, a not-so-gentle gentleman walked into the check out area and
reprimanded my chick-out chick for putting something into a bag that was
not-meant-to-be put into a bag.
How
absurd! How rude!
How incredibly focused on the bottom line and
business-efficiency-above-customer-care. The
man’s mind was obviously consumed with such petty thoughts as “Every bag not
used is worth x amount and x amounts build very quickly into much, much bigger x
amounts.” It was obvious the multi-national food chain was making money
at my inconvenience, and this petty authoritarian was trying to make us feel
guilty about it.
I
immediately jumped to milady’s defence and pointed out to the aggressive male
that his employee was merely doing what the customer had asked her to do.
He begrudgingly accepted this fact, gathered up his aggressive dignity
and went looking for someone else to berate.
The
check-out chick and I returned our looks from the rude man’s back to each
other’s much more attractive and softer faces.
We raised eyebrows at each other and shook our heads in bemused
astonishment. We had won! We had
won against rudeness, and aggressive attitudes and uncaring corporate agendas
… and we had just become friends. Now I could be told everything.
People regularly tell friendly strangers the most intimate and wonderful
facts about themselves. A smile is
worth an intimate secret. Support
and nurturing are worth a million more.
“I’m
engaged.”
It was the first
secret, and it needed to be told. It was said with such pride and enthusiasm.
I knew she was aching to tell the story within that statement, so I
openly encouraged her.
She
told me that her fiancée had taken her to a beach side restaurant last night.
They had then walked happily and joyfully along the golden sands of our
coast hand-in-hand, before lying back and watching the stars.
She had had the most wonderful time.
She was still shining. They
were celebrating their 7th month anniversary.
I
told her she was a lucky one – her man sounded like a true romantic – the
best kind. “Yes, he is.” Her
love for this young man was palatable and very pleasant meal it was, leaving a
sweet taste in my heart.
I
asked about their wedding date and was told a time four years into the future.
I obviously looked a little surprised about the length of time because
she quickly informed me that she was only young.
My smile grew back to my ears. I
was proud of her, and I told her so.
“You are very wise young couple. You
have all of your lives ahead. How
sensible to wait before walking into marriage.”
I
felt sure her parents were very thankful for the delay in the proceedings and
told her so. The next secret popped
out. Her parents didn’t know yet.
Check-out
chick and her fiancé were moving in together very shortly, as is the Australian
way. This fact was understood and
accepted by my new friend’s parents. It
was a big change to accept, but they liked the boy and they trusted their
daughter. However their trusted
daughter had blanched at informing Mum and Dad about the other major life
journey she was embarking upon. They
had no idea about the total, lifetime commitment part of her new adventure.
I
asked the obvious question of when would the family be informed of the impending
nuptials, and her face lit up.
“On
our 12th month anniversary.”
It
was a most definite answer and contained a story.
“My fiancé is going to propose to me again on bended knee in front of
my parents on our 12th month anniversary.”
Her
fiancé really is a romantic, and a gentleman.
She’s a lucky lady. But
there was more.
“He
originally proposed to me while we looked for our bed.
Right in the middle of the bedding store, he went down on one knee and
proposed to me.”
I
must admit my smile was more than a little wry, knowing a bit about men and
beds. My new young friend flushed a
gentle red as I mentioned how interesting a fact that would be to tell her
grandchildren. It didn’t matter.
She had already recognised the significance of the place of her proposal.
It really didn’t matter. She,
and I, both recognised that the proposal in that setting was still incredibly
romantic and charming and genuine.
My
shopping was now checked out and bagged. My
new friend and I smiled at each other and wished each other a wonderful day.
My day was certainly more wonderful for this chance encounter with this
particular check out chick. I had
been feeling dreary and dispirited before our conversation.
Her love and enthusiasm had lightened my own heart and I felt truly
blessed to have shared her confidences.
Carl
Jung was right. My mind and my life
were transformed, at least for a little while, by this chance encounter.
I’m a lucky lady. I’m
luckiest of all because I was aware of how joyous my checkout chick and I were
for our short and intimate connection. It’s
so good to know a stranger can be a friend, even for a little while.
I
wish you all the same good fortune.
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