The cashier humiliated an old man for his slowness, not knowing that he was the founder of the supermarket. The supermarket, the central, was bursting. It was half past six in the afternoon, the time when the entire city seemed to have chosen the same place to buy. Carriages collided in the hallways, the loudspeakers repeated promotions, and the murmur of the long queues created a kind of collective buzz.
In box number six, the queue seemed eternal. An old man with white hair and slow steps, advanced with difficulty. His name was Alberto, he was 82 years old, and that afternoon he had gone out to buy the essential, bread, rice, a little fruit, and a bottle of milk. He normally did not go shopping. His caretaker, Carmen, always accompanied him, but an unexpected force forced her to leave that day.
Alberto, with his brown coat and a bag of fabric hanging on his shoulder, decided to do it for himself. As soon as he put the first product on the conveyor belt, the cashier watched him with impatience. Lucía, a 26-year-old young woman, spent the whole day attending without a break. Tiredness and bad mood were reflected on her face.
She tapped her fingers on the register box, waiting for the old man to put the rest of her shopping. But Alberto was slow. His hands trembled slightly when he took the products out of the bag. He placed an apple, then the pack of rice, with excessive care, as if he were afraid that everything would break.
The woman behind him looked at the clock with annoyance. Oh my God, how slow! She murmured. A man in a suit who was also waiting in line, added in a loud voice. This always happens. They should have an exclusive box for these people. Immediately, someone else responded. A mother of two small children who held bags and seemed exhausted.
Well, this box is preferential. He has the right to be here and take his time. The first woman coughed. Right? Some of us work all day and need to get home. The looks began to turn towards the old man. Alberto, nervous, tried to speed up his movements. The pulse played a bad pass. The milk bottle slipped from his hands and fell to the floor.
The white liquid spread on a shameful stain on the tiles. The cashier put her eyes in white. Perfect! She exclaimed with irony. Now we’ll have to clean all this up. Alberto’s face lit up. I’m sorry, he said in a low voice, crouched down with clumsyness to try to pick up the broken bottle. Leave it! He ordered Lucia with a rough tone.
Don’t make things worse. Some in the line laughed between their teeth. Someone murmured. Exactly, he’s coming to delay everyone. The woman in the line crossed her arms and raised her voice. Don’t you realize you’re alone? It could be your grandfather. A little patience wouldn’t hurt you. The tension increased.
The line murmured like a pressure cooker about to explode. Ernesto, increasingly nervous, tried to speed up. But in the attempt, an apple bag also fell on him. The fruits rolled on the floor, crashing at the feet of the customers. Lucia, the cashier, exploded. This is a supermarket, not a grocery store. The old man stayed still, paralyzed.
His breathing was shaky. His eyes moistened. No one knew that Ernesto hadn’t actually been exposed to these types of situations for years. Since he was a widow, he avoided going out alone, and that day he had gathered the courage because he needed to eat something fresh. At that moment, a serious voice interrupted the rumble.
What’s going on here? It was Julio, the manager of the store, a man of about 45 years old, tall, with an expression of authority. His presence made the entire line shut immediately. He walked to the box, observed the milk carton and the wasted apples. Then he looked at Lucia seriously. Explain to me. He ordered.
Lucia shrugged her shoulders, trying to justify herself. This man is taking everyone’s time, and, well, look what he did. Julio turned his gaze back at the old man, and at that moment he recognized him. His shoulders loosened, as if time were going backwards. It can’t be. He whispered. Alberto? The old man looked up, surprised.
You are… Julio? The manager was moved. Of course. I was a cashier here 20 years ago. You gave me my first job. You… You founded this store. The silence was absolute. The customers in line looked at each other with amazement. Lucia opened her eyes, her mouth open, unable to articulate a word. Julio went ahead.
He took the old man by the arm with respect and tenderness. Gentlemen, he said, addressing everyone. This man is the creator of the headquarters. Thanks to him, this place exists. Thanks to him, I am here. And many of you have worked or bought here since forever. Alberto smiled weakly, although still moved by humiliation.
I just came to buy some things. I didn’t expect special treatment. Just respect. Those words, simple but firm, went deep. The people who had been criticizing felt the discomfort of his attitude. The mother who defended him, on the other hand, approached and picked up the apples, putting them back on the band.
Julio called two employees. They personally attend Alberto and bring new bags. The cashier tried to apologize, with a cut voice. I didn’t know who it was. Julio looked her in the eyes, serene but firm. No, miss. It’s not about knowing who is who. It’s about treating everyone well, always. Lucia felt a knot in her throat.
She had spent all day complaining about difficult customers. And in her tiredness, she had forgotten that behind each face there was a story. Julio accompanied Alberto and other people with priority to a new special box, where they attended him without hurry. The customers opened the door in silence. Before leaving, Julio went in line.
This supermarket was born with the idea of serving the community, no matter who you are. Today we all remember it. This is a preferential attention box. I understand that it is rush hour and that we are all tired, but we have to respect each person. Lucia was not fired, but Julio assigned her a special training in customer care.
She accepted, with the shame transformed into learning. Alberto, on the other hand, returned home with his purchases in a new bag. He walked slowly, but with a slightly lighter heart. He had been humiliated, yes, but he had also remembered that there were still voices that defended respect. The supermarket continued to work, but for those who witnessed that scene, nothing was the same again.
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