I’m 40 years old, and I’ve been a grocery store cashier for most of my adult life.
It’s not the kind of job people dream about when they’re young, but it’s honest work. It pays the rent on my small apartment, keeps my fridge stocked, and gives my days a routine I’ve learned to lean on. After years behind the register, you develop a strange skill—you learn how to read people without them saying a word.
