too many people stood in the self-checkout lines. i stood in regular line behind a woman ‘carrying on’ with the cashier scanning her items, many of which were chicken cutlets. the woman bewilderedly said something like ‘the other waldbaum’s.’ i thought ‘how is this related to chicken.’ the cashier said things about ‘the other waldbaum’s.’ the woman left looking overwhelmed. i put a pack of orange trident gum on the black rubber conveyer belt. a man stood behind me in line.

cashier wordlessly greeted me and i said ‘hi.’ she said ‘do you have a waldbaum’s card?’ and before i could say something stupid like ‘why yes, in fact i’ve just gotten one—finally!—after all these months,’ she saw it in my hand and scanned it. i bagged groceries as they slid down the conveyer of rolling metal cylinders. the last conveyer belt they’d ever know. first the rubber one, now this rolling one, then no more, forever, for as long as ye both shall live. swiped my card in the paying device, pressed ‘credit,’ resumed bagging. the cashier said ‘fifty-one oh-six.’ i stopped bagging. a glimmer of pessimistic hesitance peeked through the cashier’s mostly blank expression. i said ‘oh, it didn’t run as credit?’ the cashier said ‘yeah but it only took twenny-eight dollars.’ remembered seeing ‘$28’ on the ATM screen. the man behind me wasn’t buying more than he could hold. more people stood behind him. i said ‘oh no, that’s…can i—i’ll just go the ATM.’ the cashier said ‘the ATM over there?’ i said ‘yeah, yeah, i’m sorry, this is embarrassing, i’ll be right back,’ looking alternately at her, the man behind me, and the faceless line behind him.

the machine worked the second time i swiped. withdrew $60 from savings account. jogged back to the cashier and the people in line, most of whom seemed to be looking at me. thought ‘shit, i could’ve said to cancel my order and waited until it was less busy.’ handed cashier $60 and said ‘i’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing.’ my remaining groceries had been bagged. the cashier did things to the register. i said ‘thank you, sorry again, embarrassing.’ she handed me my change and either said something or looked at me like ‘i understand, it’s okay, sometimes money is hard.’ as i exited the store i felt like a fraud, undeserving of the cashier’s sympathy. embarrassed about overstating my embarrassment and guilty that i didn’t feel more guilty about inconveniencing the line. wanted to apologize. not to the cashier, but something.