At around 1:00 today, I went to purchase feminine products at CVS. As I walked in, I noticed there was only one cashier. Male. 20-something. I steeled myself for potential awkwardness.
After getting over the dazzling array of options (seriously, this particular market has outdone itself with its varieties), I selected and walked back to the register, my eyes darting around frantically for an alternative. Where was that 50-something female cashier, with too-red lipstick and that birthmark on her neck, who would probably look at me knowingly as I put my purchase on the counter? Yeah, I remember those times, she'd seem to say. They were the best of times, they were the worst of times, I'd say, with another knowing look. And it wouldn't even be a cliche.
Instead, the 20-something cashier brusquely turned away from putting smaller boxes into other larger boxes. Rafik was his name. He asked for my CVS card, scanned, totaled and bagged. The moment was over. Ah well.
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