"It was Sunday morning and I was grumpy enough, filling up my mum's car. It was one of those petrol stations which is also a supermarket, so you run the risk of joining a queue of people bearing baskets of slightly overpriced groceries. This is a dreadful thing to happen when all you want to do is pay for some fuel. Dreadful."
"When the faffer at the front of the queue had finally paid for his Viakal, his sausage roll and his box of eggs, I could have sworn I heard the cashier wish him a wonderful day. Odd. Perhaps I'd misheard, or maybe she did say it and was being sarcastic. I wondered if she could even be an ally in my fight against faff, sharing my contempt for people who hold up simple fuel-buyers like me."
"I could have confirmed it by saying something hilarious to her, to see if she did that thing when they look at you, unsmilingly, and say with absolute sincerity: That's really funny. But I couldn't think of anything hilarious to say. I just had to settle for the absolute sincerity or an impersonation of it, which amounts to the same thing with which she looked me right in the eye, deep into my soul, and wished me a wonderful day. I felt better for it."
A person is grumpy while filling up their mum's car at a petrol station that also functions as a supermarket. A slow queue of shoppers, some with baskets of slightly overpriced groceries, increases irritation. A single young cashier serves customers and repeatedly says, 'Have a wonderful day' after each transaction. The accent suggests she is American, which surprises the person in Stourbridge. An older woman struggles with her basket, groceries, purse and loyalty card. The person considers testing the cashier with a joke but cannot think of anything. The cashier looks the person in the eye, warmly wishes them a wonderful day, and the person feels better.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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