How I learned to hate the grocery checkout
One thing I've learned living in North Minneapolis: how to pick the right checkout line. Growing up, buying groceries was a simple task. The cashier scanned your groceries, you paid, and that was that. The worst case scenario was getting stuck behind a particularly slow check writer.
In my current neighborhood, things are a little different. Case in point: I made a brief run to Rainbow Foods last night for some essentials. When I got to the checkout, the woman at the front of the line was having her last few groceries scanned one at a time, peering closely at the total cost. She was paying with a food stamp card, and had to stay under her limit. This is a common sight, and I'm always interested to see what groceries are the lowest priority for people. But it takes time.
Next woman, the one in front of me, checks all her groceries through just fine. She pays by credit card, but there's no signature on the back. So the cashier asks to see her ID. She pulls out a license, but it turns out the card belongs to her husband not to her. So more ruffling through the wallet--at least one minute--to find the husband's license. Eventually she does and the cashier lets her sign off and go.
When I was up, I got through in about a minute flat, no hassle.
Behind these delays are real economic pressures. Dealing with limited funds or complex financial lives makes even routine shopping a real act in creativity and bargaining. My boyhood stomping grounds had relatively few people in such a position. Despite this recognition, though, I've learned to scan checkout lines closely for potential line cloggers, using (I'm ashamed to say) the lenses we all have inherited for race and especially class differences. It's one more literacy I've developed living in the 'hood.
Image source: http://crg2000.com/New_Folder3/grocery_checkout.jpg