So I get in line at the supermarket behind a guy who’s buying maybe a basketful of items. The clerk has rung everything up, and he asks the guy if he wants paper or plastic, and the guy gallantly says that he’ll bag his own groceries. Meanwhile, the register hasn’t yet approved his credit card. The clerk, a 20ish guy with curly hair, kind of goes into a holding pattern and almost drools on himself as he stares into space with nothing to do.

After the guy finishes bagging his groceries, he comes back into position and gets the clerks attention. “Um, did you pay with a credit card?” the clerk asks. The guy says yes. After staring at the screen and at the keypad for a while, the clerk trots off to find the manager.

The manager comes and determines the problem, and after the manager explains the complexities of pressing “1,” the clerk (who is obviously new at this job) just stares at him, a little bit overwhelmed. “So,” the manager says, “you should probably ring up the next customer now.”

“Maybe …” the clerk says, quietly now, “um … maybe you should just do it.”

I stifle some laughter, and the manager tries to, but he can’t. He explains that even though it might be easier for the new clerk if someone else did his job for him, he should probably learn to do the job himself. Reluctantly, the clerk rings up my items, and I pay with cash. When the total comes to $13.03, I think about giving him $20.03, but then just give him an even $20 so as not to put him into the psych ward.

When I walk out the door, I think about all kinds of things. I wonder how that guy got this job in the first place. I wonder what it must be like for him to work in the daytime, when the place is full of hawkeyed old ladies with stacks of coupons. I wonder if he wanted to be a stockboy instead.

Most of all, I wonder what’s going to happen to him. There are all kinds of possibilities, but the one I like to imagine takes place about six months from now, when I go back into the supermarket and he’s ringing up groceries like Tom Cruise tending bar in Cocktail. Juggling bags of grapes. Flipping ketchup bottles end over end while spinning in circles. Tossing boxes of Pop-Tarts behind his back, spinning them ever so slightly so that they scan just before skidding into the bag.

Plastic, not paper. Of course.