A Checkout to Remember

A few days ago I was at the grocery store.  There really isn't anything unusual about that, as I generally stop for groceries most days.  Sometimes I just have to pick up something small (a gallon of milk, a loaf of bread) and sometimes a larger order is required. 

This trip to the store differed from the norm, however, not in the items in my basket, but in the events that unfolded at register 1. 

You see, I try to make it a point to get to know the people who work in the stores in which I shop.  I know their names, where they go (or went) to school, the music they like, their political views, etc.  It's like being with friends every time I walk through the doors.

Anyway, As I was standing in the checkout line, one store employee came over to me and said, "I wanted to let you know that it has been a great privilege to serve you over the last few years.  This will be my last night of work here, and I didn't want you to leave without saying goodbye to you."

I asked the usual series of questions.  Where are you going?  What will you be doing?  Will you be moving there? 

I teared up at his words, partly because of his outstanding character, but mostly because it's unlikely that our paths will cross any time soon, and I'm gonna miss him.   

I wished him well, and we shared a handshake and a friendly (manly?) hug. He thanked me. 

"No," I said.  "It is I who should thank you."