Confusion in Aisle 5

The supermarket. It is a place where we can express ourselves entirely through food selection. It is a routine occurrence to see people happily spend more money on a product branded with any one of a number of tag lines trumpeting a nutritional feature ("Omaga 3!"), a production process ("All Natural!", "Organic!"), or just plain more (the omnipresent "Buy one, get one free!"). Granted, some of these tag lines have merits, but some are just gimmicks.

Ah, the supermarket. What a marvelous creation.

But there is a darker side. Surly clerks. Long lines. Soccer moms (with requisite large number of children). College students stocking up on junk food and surveying the cheap beer selection.

That in mind, its been drilled into my head that as little time as possible is to be spent in the supermarket. Avoid other people and say as little as possible. Get in, get out, get going.

Not so in the Northwest, as I've learned.

Upon an initial trip to a neighborhood supermarket no more than a few days after I stepped off the plane in Sea-Tac for the first time, I was greeted by the cashier. Greeted?

"How are you? Did you find everything?"

The cashier even smiled.

Confused, I held my silence. Was she serious? What kind of place is this? Do I look that out of place?

Skeptical, I quietly mumbled an "okay" a few seconds later. She rung up my groceries and I paid. Once my groceries were bagged and I had paid, I went to grab my bags, and then, the unthinkable.

"Would you like help out to your car?", the young woman asked, again with an unflappable smile.

My confusion instantly turned to sheer horror. Being generally polite was a nice touch (if unexpected), and hardly called me to question my sanity. But this? She meant to tell me that someone would help me carry my things if I wanted? I was used to hearing nothing at all except "$16.84, cash or charge?" from a cashier, but that reality was blown to smithereens in a very short period of time.

"Um...no?"

"Okay, have a nice day!"

I walked out of that supermarket into a brave new world that late summer afternoon. It took some getting used to, and it still just feels odd sometimes. And when I recount this story to friends, they look at me like I've said something crazy.

So, people of the Northwest - you have it good when it comes to the local grocery. And if you see someone who looks taken aback by the unconditional politeness of the cashier, well, they're probably not from around here.