I got snippy at the Foodtown checkout girl last week. She didn’t ask for my discount card, which meant that I didn’t get the $1.60 discount on instant Quaker oatmeal.

Here is the dialogue:

Me: I’m so sorry. I wasn’t quick enough. Here’s my card.

Girl: It’s too late.

Me: You can’t do a void and do it again, since this is all I’m getting?

Girl: Shakes head

Me: Most people ask if they have a club card.

Girl: Shrugs

Me: Can I speak to your manager?

Girl: Points

The manager counted out $1.60 without speaking to me or looking at me because that would be weird.

A few days later, I was in Little Italy, where I stopped in Di Palo’s Italian Specialty Foods for pasta and attention. The line was long, and a regular told me where to get a ticket. To my amazement, I watched the grocers interact with customers: telling jokes, asking about menus, and slicing testers of cheese from gigantic cheese wheels. (I thought cheese grew in sandwich-sized squares.) Their conversations were different from the Foodtown dialogue highlighted above. It was as if real humans—sans text messages—were talking to each other about what they were having for dinner.

When it was my turn, the grocer looked at me directly. I asked for Parmesan, and he cut me a slice. This took a little time. Delicious. I bought a chunk.

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