The Old Man And The Fee

My line is packed and my checkout’s belt is groaning under carts of food. A cranky old man steps up with his card, muttering under his breath.

Me: “Alright, sir, just insert your card when it says ‘Go ahead’.”

He jams it in early. The machine blinks angrily, then asks for a PIN. He types it in. Wrong.

Machine: “Incorrect PIN. Please try again.”

Me: “Okay, just give it a second and then—”

Old Man: “I don’t have time for this!”

He yanks the card out and rams it back in before I can stop him. The screen freezes. The whole terminal dies.

Me: *Sighs.* “…And now the register’s locked.” 

Old Man: “What?! What kind of cheap junk is this?!” 

Me: “Sir, I did try to tell you, but once the machine locks up it takes a supervisor reset. We’ll need to wait a few minutes.”

Old Man: “I don’t have a few minutes!” 

The people behind him groan. One woman leans forward, arms crossed. She has a bunch of kids with her.

Woman in Line: “None of us do. But you just cost us all ten minutes because you couldn’t wait for ten seconds. That’s on you, not the machine.”

The man glares at her, but she stares him down with the kind of withering look only a mom of three can manage. 

Me: “She’s right, sir. If you’d just waited, you’d already be on your way out.”

Old Man: *Shoves his wallet in his pocket.* “This place is ridiculous.”

Woman in Line: “No. You’re ridiculous.” 

He storms out empty-handed. The register finally resets. I smile at the woman. 

Me: “Thanks for saying what we’re not allowed to.” 

Woman in Line: “Don’t mention it. Some of us can wait our turn like grown-ups.”