Who breaks a butterfly on a wheel?

The Tesco receipt, humble and unassuming, that you see above, led to a bit of an unfortunate incident this lunchtime. The alert and mathematically skilled amongst you will notice that I, apart from favouring the cheaper end of the baked bean market, decided to approach the ‘ten items or fewer’ till with, shockingly, eleven separate grocery pieces. This led to problems. I am normally greeted cheerfully by whoever serves me and I regularly respond in a similar jovial fashion to the check-out person. Today’s lack of eye contact from a rather surly young lady should have warned me that trouble was afoot. As the eleventh item bleeped, she had a blast at me, informing me with barely disguised contempt that, in the future, I should desist from advancing towards her stall with so many objects. She was actually very rude. I didn’t react or reply in the least and adopted a slightly languid, devil-may-care posture. I suppose this lack of reaction fuelled her anger even more as she loudly muttered to the middle-aged fellow who next in line, ‘Sorry about the delay…!’ and then slammed my change down on the counter. No word of thanks for my custom. No bidding me farewell. I was displeased rather than cross but I decided to complain to the store manager who listened politely as I articulated my concerns. Her apologies were fulsome and well-meant as she reassured me that bringing eleven items to that till was perfectly fine and that her colleague’s behaviour was unnecessary and regrettable. Our exchange was as lucid and coherent as the young lady’s attitude was needless. She promised to deal with my grievance and I departed on good terms. I honestly can’t recall complaining in a shop before - I'm not that sort of person - but I did so today calmly and without a hint of antagonism. It just seemed the right thing to do.