The Register Line From Hell

They were coming up slowly, one by one, some shambling, some shuffling, but all moving slow. The only person moving quickly was John. His hands flew as he scanned their items, punched in dollar amounts, sorted change, and bagged purchases. He was working as fast as he could. But for every person that passed through the line, two more seemed to take their place.

Something turned over in his stomach and made a sickening sound. He tried to ignore it as he hurried along. It was the last remnants of his cheeseburger from earlier that day. It was still trying to cause him to upset himself. But he couldn’t let that happen. Hopefully the medicine he had taken earlier would help him out.

Another sickening slosh in his stomach and a cold chill passed over him. He paused for a moment, trying to get a quick breath in.

“Hey, buddy,” a bald headed man a few places down the line said. “Some of us have places to go.”

John nodded. “I’m sorry sir. Just give me a moment.”

“We’re waiting,” the man said, holding his hands out and looking around for agreements. He received a few here and there.

All John could do was begin to scan again. He reached out with one hand and turned on his intercom. “Code 2 up front please, code 2 up front, thank you.”

In no time at all Cindy arrived up front and jumped on another register, punching in as fast as she could. John was grateful for her assistance and gave her a nod. She returned the gesture.

“I can help down here,” she announced to the line.

A few people moved, but not a lot of them. Most stayed right where they were in John’s line. “If you’d move faster, you wouldn’t have had to call her,” the bald headed man said to John.

“Her line is shorter,” John said as he shoved a prim-faced woman’s douche into a plastic sack.

“I got in this line first,” the man said, crossing his arms defiantly.

John just shook his head and kept working. He really hoped that the medicine that he had taken earlier was going to kick in soon. There was only so much of this a man could take.

Something buzzed near his ear. John swatted at it, expecting to hit a fly. But the buzzing swiftly moved to his other ear. Again, he tried to get rid of it, but this time it was by both of his ears.

“Hurry up, buddy,” the bald man said. John just shook his head and kept going, though the buzzing noise was still in his ears.

A mother was in line now. She was fat, matronly, with her brood either clinging to her or crawling around on the floor like maggots, small, grubby, and white. John quickly scanned her purchases, a 6 pack of Gatorade and some Rice Crispies. She bent forward to write the check, allowing him a less than welcome look at her immense, flabby breasts. His stomach churned again.

“What are you looking for?” the bald man asked.

“Pardon?” John asked. He was shivering a little. Cold chills were running up and down his spine, and he was doing his best not to crack up.

“You’re looking down this woman’s shirt,” the bald man said. “That’s sexual harassment.”

“I’m trying not to, sir,” John said. And it was the truth. He was trying his very hardest not to look.

“Now you’re saying she’s unattractive,” the bald man said. “Ma’am, did you hear that?”

But she hadn’t. She was already out the door, her spawn creeping and crawling after her. John processed her check and turned to the next person in line, an elderly woman, thin and frail. She held her arms in front of her in such a way that John was reminded of a praying mantis.

“Um...Excuse me, sir....but I was wondering if....you might possibly have...some of those Memorial Day...Um...Flowers...on sale.”

“Not yet ma’am,” John said. “They go on sale at the end of the week.”

“Memorial Day ended yesterday,” the bald man said from his place in line behind the old lady. “They should be on sale.”

“They’re not,” John repeated. “And since when was this your business?”

“Oh, so now you’re trying to prevent us from helping each other,” the bald man said.

John sighed and held out his hands. “I can get my manager up here. She can confirm it.”

The old lady seemed somewhat delighted by this. “Oh...okay!” she said, and she stepped back.

John leaned over and pushed the intercom again. “Ms. Olin, to the front please. Ms. Olin, to the front.”

He looked back to the line. The bald man was there. John made every attempt to quickly scan his items and get him out of there. It wasn’t easy. While the man was silent, John’s stomach was not. The buzzing was loud now, like a cloud of flies around his head. He blinked and shook his head.

“Oh, great,” the bald man said. “Now you’re going to mess this up and it will take even longer.”

“You aren’t helping,” John pointed out as he reached out to scan the next item.

The bald man pulled it away. “What did you say to me?”

John looked him in the eyes. The other man’s eyes were filled with spite, leering out at him like the teeth of a thousand deadly insects. “You aren’t helping,” John repeated.

The bald man stuck his finger in John’s face. “You listen here. I’m the customer. I’m right. It’s in your god-damned store policy. I don’t have to help you.”

“Fine,” John said as he reached out to take the item. The bald man pulled it away.

“I ain’t finished with you,” he said, still jabbing his finger at John’s face. “When your manager gets up here, she’s going to be hearing about all of this. You bet it. I have connections. See if you keep your job.”

John just leaned back and put his hand to his forehead. The medicine wasn’t kicking in, but his stomach felt like it was being kicked in. His only hope was that Ms. Olin would get up here quickly.

“Don’t you get frustrated with me, boy,” the bald man said. “I know my rights.”

John just shut his eyes. The buzzing wasn’t ending. This line was not where he wanted to be right now. It was cold, and loud, and angry. All the way down the line, he could feel it. A swarming anger, like a hive of disturbed bees.

“Boy, get back up here and ring me up,” the bald man said.

“No, sir, I will not,” John said.

The man’s face grew dark. “What did you say to me?”

“I have the right to refuse service to anyone who is belligerent,” John said, leaning forward on the counter to steady himself. “I also have the right to take off because I’m sick. That is why you all have had such poor service. I apologize, but this line is now closed. Please head over to my co-worker’s line, and she will take care of you.”

John turned to the side. The bald man grabbed his arm. “Boy, you ain’t going nowhere until you ring me right the fuck up!”

“Sir, let go of me,” John said, trying to wriggle free and break loose.

The bald man dragged him closer, then grabbed the front of his shirt. “Ring me up now, you little shit!” John looked around in fear. He expected the line to be running, or thinning at the very least. Rather, they were crowding around him, getting comfortable to watch this spectacle.

John shook from fright and stomach chills. “Sir, let go of me!”

“Code one at the front,” Cindy called, her voice sounding desperate. “Oh someone get up here we have a code one please get up here now.”

“Ring me up!” the man yelled in John’s face.

At this point John could no longer control himself. He threw up, all over the bald man. His assailant dropped him across the counter and stepped back, flinging bits of vomit off of himself in disgust and anger. He charged forward and dragged John onto the floor. Without mercy he began to pummel him, screaming almost incoherently.

Someone grabbed the bald man and threw him to one side, against the jewelry cases. Ray, John’s friend, happened to be stocking shelves at the time and saw the commotion. Later, in the hospital, while John was in a full body cast, he would say that he felt something up there that was hard to get through. A thick wall of hate, he said once, though the other times he always said it was the crowd.

The bald man hit the side of the jewelry case and the glass shattered, slicing a cut into his cheek. He lay on the floor, his blood around him, making strange insect-like noises. Ray knelt at John’s side, while others in the line went to the bald man. This was the scene that greeted Ms. Olin when she finally arrived, running as fast as she could.

The details were sorted out when they went to court. Witnesses were able to confirm that John did nothing wrong at all. The bald man pleaded not guilty to aggravated assault, arguing that John had it coming to him for not moving fast enough. The judge sentenced him to seek counseling as well as pay for John’s medical bills, but due to technicalities the man did neither.

John lay in a hospital bed for a long month or two. His attacker had broken his face to pieces, and done a fair job to his chest as well. Despite all of this, he was able to return to work fairly quickly. However, he never did register again. It was unspoken. If he so much as stepped behind one, his knees shook and he began to break out in a cold sweat. Ms. Olin understood. She let him push freight in the back of the store, far from the check-out lines.

John was grateful for that. However, he still lived in constant dread. The bald man might come back. Though he had not seen him since court, he could very well be around. And, Ms. Olin’s position was not the most permanent of ones. If she was replaced, if another manager came along who did not know of John’s bad experience at his register, then he didn’t know what he would do. Whenever he thought about that, the buzzing would start again, and he would have to go out on the loading dock and smoke. He never smoked before this. Not once.