Not speaking to (and thus having to avoid all eye-contact with) the checker is somehow actually more painful than engaging in small talk, so I usually try to disperse a little of the uncomfortableness by going ahead and asking them how their day has been going. This checker answered like they usually do:
"Oh, good. What about you?"
"Fine."
"Just fine?"
"Yeah, fine."
BEEP BEEP, she scanned some shit. Things were going pretty good, the conversation dragging along at a fairly normal pace. It was hardly even awkward. Then she scanned my cabbage.
"Cabbage?"
And I, having been vaguely daydreaming about this checker-customer relationship blossoming into a beautiful little friendship, replete with Secret Santa gift exchanges and trips to the waterpark, misinterpreted the degree of playfulness in our conversation.
"Yeah, I like cabbage, okay," I replied, my tone appending such angst-ridden, semi-sarcastic annotations as: you gotta problem with that? and it's not a crime, man.
The checker just stared.
"Oh... no, I just can't tell the difference between cabbage and lettuce. I wasn't making fun of your cabbage."
"Oh, uh..."
"It's hard to tell."
"Oh, uh, yeah. If you eat a lot of cabbage you start to be able to tell. Cabbage and lettuce are actually really not that similar looking."
BEEP.
"I mean they are, but... cabbage is, uh, green."
BEEP.
"And, uh, less lettuce-y."
BEEP. BEEP.
"It's pretty great, cabbage. Cabbage is kind of awesome. It's one of my favorite foods. You should really eat it more often. I heard it's on sale or something."
"That'll be $21.52, Ma'am."
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