“Then you certainly don't know any children”

At the supermarket, there is a barrier in front of the door, behind (and between) the bars, children with big eyes are staring at the sliding doors. With every false move, the kids simultaneously stand on their toes and the boy with the biggest mouth shouts: “Sir, sir, madam, madam, do you have football stickers?”

Because of that barrier, I should have been on my toes and alert. But for now, I thoughtlessly walked through the supermarket. I am a self-scanner and self-scanners have to go past a counter (a counter, yes) to collect the points/stamps/stickers they are entitled to. During times of football stickers, there is often a poor soul standing by the automatic gate asking if I want them. While I say ‘yes’, I always think about the fact that someone is seriously getting paid to stand by a gate to check vouchers to see how many stickers you are entitled to. We live in a country where people can't stop talking about competing talk shows and handing out paid football stickers at self-scan checkouts. God, how good we have it.

But it was a quiet day, the demand for football stickers was apparently low and I squeaked myself through the exit with a ‘short receipt’. I had forgotten a bag, so it was a bit of juggling with the cucumber, oranges, and the bottle of wine, but I had everything reasonably under control. Until I got outside and immediately knew I had forgotten something essential when I saw a little know-it-all peeking just above the barrier. Shit, football stickers. And there it came: “Madam, madam, do you have football stickers?” I, feeling guilty, started to stammer that I had completely forgotten them and that I would definitely bring them next time (promised, promised, promised). The little boy pushed his glasses higher on his nose, blew his hair out of his eyes, and said a bit annoyed: “Well madam, then you surely don't know any children.” What a conclusion.

I felt like the most degenerate football sticker-less woman in the world, you understand.