I knew it was coming. 4.15, the after-school shift had arrived and were staffing the check-outs. As my frozen beans, yoghurt, fruit, vegetables and tins slid inexorably towards the scanner, it arrived: “Got much on for the rest of the day?” An hour earlier, the phlebotomist had asked me the same question, as she explored my arm for a puncture site. My mid-morning coffee payment had received a similar, trite enquiry.
Which moronic HR consultant has come up with this inanity? Proffered with such insincerity, while activating a social norm that dictates a rejoinder, knowing our response will fall, ignored, on closed ears and minds already miles away! Why were we being exposed to this nonsense? At every second turn!
I, and innumerable friends have considered these questions, tossed around possible responses, agreeing to a discomfort suffered as we are drawn to make a polite response, like a moth to a flame, against an awareness that even as we open our mouths, the rejoinder will bounce against already redirected focus.
“Well actually, I am heading home to explore pent-up sexual peccadillos” was one suggestion. Another “I am considering ways of slaughtering the next person who enquires about my day’s activities!” “That is private and you should mind your own bloody business!” One wit suggested, “Well actually, I have a large, dead sheep on the front lawn that I have been meaning to cut up and put in the chiller.”
Proffered civility or an actual explanation of planned activities both left me feeling duped, and drawn into a meaningless void. I wanted to approach management, requesting they stop insisting the staff pose such a socially inappropriate, meaningless exchange.
I thought more about my response. At the point of payment, I don’t need the insertion of a “social” interlocutor. I am paying for a service received. A “Thank you” or if a name badge identifies the staff, “Thank you Kaitlyn” should be an adequate verbal recognition of the transaction, a satisfactory lubricant to achieve egress.
If I knew how, I would propose that a tweet-handle be established “@GotMuchOn…” and organise a marketing campaign to get it circulating: the Donald might be able to provide guidance, here! Tee shirts and caps could be struck, owners encouraged to wear them when progressing through supermarket check-outs. In the fullness of time, there’s the possibility that a political movement could be crowd-funded. The GMO Party, fielding candidates in local, state, and possibly even federal elections on the policies of tighter gun control, climate change action, effective universal healthcare, and a reduction in the use of inane, gormless language and time wastage.
If you have a moment, and a credit card, “… all you’ve gotta do to join is to…” purchase a T-shirt, make a commitment to wearing it, offer a small donation to the cause, and provide an indication of an ability to volunteer your time and energy at the next local council election, if the decision is taken to formalise the GMOP. “Got much else on?”