Un-bra-lievable

I’ve just completed a shopping trip at a local chain store. I picked a bunch of items, including some new bras. I head to the cashier, as self-checkout does not exist yet. He is a young man and obviously new, but I’m not in any rush.

He starts scanning the items and bagging them. There’s no problem until the bras arrive. They are on a little hanger. He plucks the hanger up by the size tab at the top of the hanger with his two fingers. He’s holding it delicately as if touching it was hazardous. He tries to scan it by waving it but the tag won’t scan. 

A look caught between panic and horror crosses his face as he realizes he will have to touch the bra. Now, I know I should bail him out, but it’s a bra, not a bomb. He’s a cashier; someday, panties, too, may be purchased. So I let the torture continue. 

He looks at me and then at the bra he’s trying desperately to ring up when he realizes the hand scanner might work. It does scan the tag hanging innocently from the bra cup. He repeats this process for the next two bras. He even bags the bras in their own bag!