The kid packing out the canned vegetables saw me staring too long at the shelves.
“What are you looking for?” He asked.
I looked down at the shopping list Nancy gave me, “crushed tomatoes, 2 28oz cans.”
“To your right, down a little more. If they’re not there, check the display at the end of the aisle. They’re on sale.”
I thanked him and walked where he pointed.
“I don’t see crushed,” I told him, “how about maybe just crestfallen? Do you have any crestfallen tomatoes? You know what? You should have a whole section dedicated to disappointed vegetables- all in one place. You can have your crushed tomatoes, distraught string beans, heartbroken peas.” I rubbed my chin, “What’s your manager’s name?”
“Bill.”
“I’ll suggest it to Bill on my way out,” I said, scanning the shelves. “Wait, they’re on sale?”
“Yeah, two for one, I think.”
“It’s no wonder they’re crushed; you undervalued them. They need a sense of self-worth, dignity.”
“Dude,” he said with a staccato laugh, shaking his head.
Cool kid.
Faith in youth restored.