Checking Out
Checking Out stories

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Autoplay OFF   •   3 years ago
Flowers, chocolates, condoms. *Beep, beep, beep.*
By IPostAtMidnight

Checking Out

by IPostAtMidnight

Flowers, chocolates, condoms.

*Beep, beep, beep.*

I can guess the evening this guy’s planning, but I make no judgements. The next lady through my lane is even easier to guess.

Romantic movie, wine, ice cream.

*Beep, beep, beep.*

Again, no judgements. I just ring her purchases while my words blur together: “Findeverythingokay? Paperorplastic? Creditordebit?”

Working checkout is like checking out mentally. There’s a reason I enjoy the mindlessness of dealing with strangers. It’s because of my quirk. See, I get—

“Ruthie, can you hand me my keys? I left them by your register.”

“Sure, Paula. Going home early?”

I don’t know why I ask her. Like I was saying, I get visions when I touch things people own.

As soon as I touched Paula’s keys, I pictured her in a hotel parking lot with Mitch Sandowski, our assistant manager.

“Yeah, feeling sick,” Paula says. “Migraine.”

I push the keys into her hand before my vision reveals anything else. No judgements.

Nothing I’ve tried ever changes the future anyway, so I turn back to my next customer, a nervous little woman.


“That’ll be $14.83,” I say.

“Is that with the employee discount?” she asks, showing me her family membership card.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize.” I subtract the discount. She swipes her debit card, then starts walking away. I call after her.

“Ma’am? Here, you forgot your…”

“Goodness, I’ll forget my own head next!”

I try not to puke when she mentions “head.” Somehow, I manage a feeble smile as I hand over the item she now owns. No judgements.

“I hope Mitch enjoys your new hammer, Mrs. Sandowski.”

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