The Modern Tantalus Max Pritchard
The clock reads 5:58 as I sign back into my till at the local grocery store. Just over two more hours until I get to go home. For now, I return to my duties as a cashier. Greeting customers, taking their food from their carts, scanning it, and sending it over to the bagger, Jack. The same routine, over and over. A customer approaches with a full cart. I greet him, and he grumbles in return. Nothing unusual there. Then, to my dismay, I hear a noise. A rumbling in my stomach. I ignore it and focus on my present task: scanning seventeen microwave pizza boxes. Moments later, I hear it again. It’s unmistakable. I am hungry. I curse myself. I had just returned from my break, where I’d eaten nothing. I knew I was forgetting something, but hadn’t realized it was as simple as food. You know, one of the basic necessities for human survival. I check the time on my monitor: 5:59. I only have to last 121 more minutes. How hard can it be? I’ve nearly checked out all of the customer’s groceries when I extract a rotisserie chicken out of the cart. The smell of fresh food is intoxicating, settling in my senses and refusing to leave, like a tenant about to be evicted or a Band-Aid that has decided to meld into its host’s skin. 66
I scan it. The customer pays for his order, mumbles some sort of thanks, and leaves. Another takes his place. Their cart is loaded to the brim with fresh food. Fruits, vegetables, bakery meats, the whole nine yards. And I can’t eat any of it. I’m trapped, I realize. There’s a seemingly infinite amount of food passing by every minute, but I can’t use it to stave off my impending starvation-invoked demise. This is because—well, for starters, it would almost certainly violate some sort of company guideline. Hell, they might have to invent a whole new guideline in the handbook with a section proclaiming, “Employees may not consume the customer’s products.” New employees will read it and roll their eyes. They’ll think, “Who would ever do that?” That’s the second problem—a cashier tearing into the food they are checking out and proceeding to devour it is culturally taboo. Unacceptable. I can already see the headlines—“Ravenous Teen Horrifies Innocent Customers at Local Grocery Store.” I can imagine it clearly: as soon as I swallow the first bite, everyone in the store would turn and stare. The booing would start, followed quickly by heckling and threats of physical violence. I would be escorted out in handcuffs, condemned
