All shall remain nameless

My mom just left after a week-long stay.  Thus, life goes back to normal; which really means that I go back to the grocery store.  Living in the middle of cottage country means that the grocery store is unusually busy in the summer months, particularly around long weekends.  Today was no exception and the cashiers were all a little frazzled.  Perhaps that accounts for what happened at the check-out.

One of my favourite cashiers was at the next cash over as I pulled in with my cart.  The teenage cashier at my cash looked up, took one look at my cart and called for "First Packer" to the front.  (I can count on one hand the number of times I have arrived at the cash and the clerk has not called for a packer to come to the front.  My grocery cart  inspires pleas for help.)  Anyway, I digress.

My favourite cashier in the aisle over saw me as I began to load the conveyor belt with bread, milk and veggies.  She smiled and then grabbed her cashier-boss and whispered something to her.  I thought this strange but went on with the loading of produce.  In the midst of lines standing five deep, this cashier left her post and ducked into my cash where she left two credit-card type cards with the young clerk who was processing my order.  Once again, I thought, "Strange."

However, my mind quickly went from, "Strange!" to, "I think that I am about to win my groceries!"

I have always harboured a secret fantasy that I would one day arrive at the cash (with a super-big order) where at once lights would begin to flash, bells ring and a "One Millionth Customer" sign would flash above my head.  My worst fear was that I would arrive at this climactic moment with only a loaf of bread and a container of ice cream!  (Quick, quick, run back for steak!!)

This whole scenario played out in my mind as the last item was being placed in my reusable bags.  I thought, "Ah, finally, I am being rewarded for my grocery-store loyalty, my prolific fertility and its resulting mammoth grocery bills."  Just dues, I reasoned.

Back to the story.  The clerk from one aisle over suddenly appeared at my side and said, "Do you use Airmiles?"
"Of course," as I handed over my card.
She swiped my card and then thrust her credit card into the machine.  In case you need to read that again:  Her credit card ... Her credit card ... Her credit card.
I tried to stop her as my brain wondered why a humble cashier was paying for my millionth-customer status.  I tried to wrest the card from her hand (well, not quite), "Stop!  Why are you paying for my groceries?!"
She smiled back, "A long overdue good deed."  A look of self-satisfaction spread across her face.  I wondered:  Dave had taught her son the previous year.  Had he been that good of a teacher?  I began to feel slightly embarrassed as I briefly compared her annual income with ours.  "Ummm, why are you doing this?"
She looked like she would skip away singing, "You can't stop me.  You can't stop me."
The teenage cashier batted her overly-mascaraed eyes and shrugged her shoulders as if this act was merely the icing on the cake of her previous assessment of her co-worker's character.

And then the generous clerk returned to her post, looked at me across the aisle, smiled broadly and said, "Welcome home!"

And my jaw hit the floor as her miscalculation registered in my mind.  Surely a week's absence from the grocery store didn't warrant such a greeting party?  No, this poor addled cashier had mistaken me for the matriarch of a family who has recently returned to town after a year's absence.  I walked around the cash and whispered in her ear, "But I'm not (place name here)."  Her hands stopped mid-bar scan and her face blanched as all the fuzzy feelings elicited by her generousity changed into their equal and opposite.
"Oh," she blubbered, "What do I do now?"
"How about I write you a cheque for the same amount and we call it even?"
"But, but, you'll have to pay a fee for writing a cheque."
"No worries, we have no fees on our back account."  I think.
"Oh my, I feel so silly and not so good."
"Don't worry, it'll be a funny story one day."  I replied.
And you shall remain nameless.