There was a bit of a Sunday afternoon rush when we stopped at the grocery on our way home from the movie yesterday. Even so, the checkout line moved quickly, and soon I was face-to-face with the cashier as she silently scanned our groceries.
We had so much in our cart that the silence got a little awkward, so I tried to break the ice with my go-to cashier conversation starter. "Oof," I started. "Is it always so busy on Sundays?"
She nodded curtly.
"Well," I continued brightly, "this line is moving quickly, thanks to you."
She nodded again, scanned my beer, and asked for ID. As she glanced at my license, her eyes grew wide. "That's my mom's birthday, too!"
I laughed. "What year was she born?"
"1963," she answered, "so a year after you."
I could feel the ice melting as she continued to bag our groceries, and I didn't want us to slip back into awkwardness. "Where was your mom born?" I asked.
"D.C.," she told me.
"Me, too!" I said. "What hospital?"
"George Washington, I think," she replied.
"Me, too!" I laughed, just as she placed the last bag in the cart. "Small world!"
"You all have a wonderful rest of your day," she smiled.
"Thank you!" I said. "And tell your mom I said hi!"
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