Checking Out at the Grocery Store: My Best Line Yet

Please forgive me. I have re-written this introduction enough times to acknowledge that what I am about to share here is likely to become more fodder for an ever-growing list among my friends and family: Reasons Carolyn Will Never Marry. But those who have ears, let them hear. When it comes to weak game, a girl should take no prisoners.

I had gone to the grocery store late at night for the simple reason that it was my turn to do household grocery shopping, and my day had been full of responsibilities and intense conversation up to the very minute I stepped into the store. I was a ragged, mute specimen of humanity dragging myself down only the necessary aisles. I managed to avoid any gazes and any banter in crowded areas; not even an "excuse me" passed my lips.

The checkout lay ahead, my last obstacle of interaction before the freedom of driving in darkness and falling into bed.

The problem: both the high-school aged cashier and the high-school-aged bag boy seemed eager to talk to me; so eager, in fact, that I wondered if they were in some sort of competition with one another. Their zeal annoyed me. The cashier attempted a thought, to which I responded with silence.

Then the unfortunate bag boy ventured a purposeful observation: "Sunflower seeds. Cool. What did I make recently with sunflower seeds?"

A beat.

"Was it an attempt at conversation with a woman in your checkout line? 'Cause I think I was there for that."