The human race

A grocery store is the last place you expect a mayhem, at least since the pandemic.

The automatic doors had barely let me in when an Asian old lady with a trolley packed with food and household items was making her way out.

The store manager was on the phone even as his eyes were firmly on the lady hobbling and struggling to push the amply stocked shopping trolley.

"Hey, wait up!" He shouted, "You haven't paid."

The old lady stopped in her tracks and turned to him but said nothing.

"I've been watching you on the monitors," The store manager panted, "you virtually stocked your trolley with every item in the store. Please get in queue here and pay up before you leave." The lady stared at him belligerently, and then smiled.

As other patrons looked on, he muttered not too quietly: "Some of these migrants, I tell ya. This used to be such an honest neighbourhood."

"I heard you!" The old lady finally broke her silence in perfect English.

"So you should, madam!" He walked up to her. "Please pay now, if you can. Else, come back later. I can hold the items for you."

"Perhaps you should be nicer to the customers. I'm sure you are not paid to be rude."

The store manager laughed. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, James!" The lady said and it was the manager's turn to be shocked. He stammered: "Do I know you, ma'am?"

"You should. I interviewed you for this job!"

"Oh, I'm sorry--"

"That's quite alright. You did well in this test to save the store from being robbed. But you could tone down your unconscious bias towards customers of colour!"

Then she handed him the trolley, smiled at our gawking faces, and left the store.