“Are you in line?” a woman asks.
The answer should be obvious, what with my shopping cart strategically placed behind another cart, which is one behind the cart currently at the register. But I smile and say yes.
“Ok then,” she says. “I’m going to stand behind you.”
Sounds good, until I realize that she means right behind me, like close enough to pose for a photo without the aid of a selfie stick. Close enough to Tango. Basically, danger close.
“You like Greek yogurt,” she says.
I shrug. She continues to inventory my cart.
The line moves, she stays on my hip. No zone coverage in this line.
“Thanksgiving,” I say.
I move to the credit card reader. Her man coverage remains tight. Effective.
I insert the card and wait.
“You have a chip,” the woman says. “Someday we’ll all have chips in our brains.”
“I think some of us already do,” I say.