Cashier

In front of us at the supermarket checkouts there are two black women queuing with their shopping. The first one pays for hers and heads off, and the second one moves round to the end of the checkout where you normally pack your bags. The checkout attendant lifts the first of her shopping from the conveyor belt, starts passing it through, and asks us if we have a club card. We point out that the shopping is not ours. “Oh sorry,” says the checkout attendant to the woman standing waiting and looking rather puzzled. “I thought you were with the other woman.”

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April 2006
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