It's Organic...

Working as a checker at a grocery store is fascinating.

The sheer number of personalities I interact with each day is staggering. Most are fairly predictable, but a few stand out. People's shopping habits are just as varied.

This island, which is a ferry ride north of Seattle, is a mecca for Liberals. They come in to my store with their cloth shopping bags so as not to contribute any more waste to the "already strained" environment.

But that's just the tip of the iceberg. The average Islander drives either a Prius or an ancient Subaru, has no fewer than three anti-Bush bumper stickers, and brings their dog with them everywhere. The dogs wear bandanas or hats. Their poop is scooped up into bio-degradable baggies. These folks fill their shopping carts with all-organic produce, canned goods, dairy, and bulk foods. But then they toss in Oreos and Lay's chips... and beer. Lots of beer. Micro brews.

The women don't wear makeup; they smell of Patchouli oil and they wear microfleece and wool in layers over long yoga outfits or prairie dresses. Their hand-knit socks peek out from their Birkenstock sandals, and their children are large-eyed and pale, like Precious Moments characters.

They buy organic dog food for crying out loud. Dogs lick their own butts... do we have to worry about what they eat?!

But it makes for interesting work, and challenging conversation in the two to four minutes they are within my 'sphere of reality'. I have nothing in common with their belief-systems, yet I am required (by the store and by my upbringing) to be "Nice". As I said, it's challenging at times.

I like it. I don't understand them, but I guess they have their charms.