Mario Giacomazzi wasn’t always a Trader Joe’s checker.� He is older than most by around 30 years and whatever he did before checking my groceries, it required a back straight like a plank with pulled back shoulders to match.� The short gray hair so perfectly pomaded atop his utilitarian head is probably only a requirement for Mr. Giacomazzi, but I trust his former employer appreciated the effort.� A good countenance counts in business.� Or the military and engineering, which are the other professions I like to imagine Mr. Giacomazzi steadfastly pursuing for 40 odd years before life landed him shocked but dignified on an OSHA approved rubber mat in front of a register.
He is slow and methodical, which allows me time to size him up while my fingers somersault the debit card on the counter in front of me.� I keep time with the groceries as they inch their way across the scanner.� Long side of the debit card, bananas.� Short side of the debit card, cereal.� Long, short, long, short.� The orchid presents a problem (where to put it! where to put it!), but eventually we hit the yogurt.� I am officially scanned.
Now, the packing.
His eyes take in the groceries in front of him and I can see him plotting the most efficient way to bag them.� He opens a bag, takes a deep breath (much like a high diver before a great jump) and begins.� I am not surprised, but I am impressed.� He excels at bagging.� Second to none.� The very, very best.� Only once, towards the end, did he fumble.� He bagged the bananas when clearly, to Mr. Giacomazzi, the bread should have gone in first.� He regroups, takes out the bananas, and bags the bread with the bananas on top.� Everything is going to be okay.
Definitely an engineer.
I walk out of Trader Joe’s with two bags that hold a box of cereal, a pint of sour cream, a large can of tomatoes, a pound of dried beans, two eggplants, 2 cartons of vegetable stock, one bag of lettuce, a jar of saffron, a large jar of applesauce, several pounds of oat bran, a large tub of yogurt, sushi, corn tortillas, a loaf of bread, two dozen eggs, and a bunch of bananas.� The orchid remains safely nestled in the cart, flanked by one bag and my purse. Mr. Giacomazzi prefers it that way.
First off, I REALLY wish we had a Trader Joe’s. Sigh. Secondly, I’ve often pondered what brought several checkers to their current positions. I’ve also realized–due to their gracious attitude and their amazing work–that they are the true heroes …
I love Mr. Giacomazzi.
What a simple and beautiful post, Jules.
I heart Trader Joe’s. But I always seem to walk out with a hundred appetizers and no entree.
Trader Joe’s seems so mythical–so many extol its virtues and yet in the Lone Star State we have some how missed out.
I have noticed an increasing number of older and more polished individuals taking over at the registers. It is good to know that I am not the only one that imagines what they surely must have done in a former life (pre-recession).
I love Mr. Giacomazzi, too.
I wish the higher income neighborhoods of Atlanta would stop being so stingy with their Trader Joe’s. It just isn’t as fun when you have to use the interstate to get to the grocery store. No matter how much I want some macaroni and cheese.
I guess I’ll just have to make some myself.
Lovely post.
Lovely, as usual…
Mr. Giacomazzi, you amaze me!
Very nicely done Mrs. K:0
This reminds me of the cab drivers in Bs As.
I loved this.
And I love Trader Joe’s. The closest one to me is a 7 hour drive, at least. That’s if there is no line at the border, ha! Luckily I got to go to one while I was in Chicago on the weekend.
I also love orchids. Love love love.
I miss the days of having good baggers. Nowadays you get each item in it’s own plastic bag…or sometimes if the item appears to be “delicate” (like eggs or a loaf of bread), it is wrapped in a plastic bag and then placed in a plastic bag designated to carry it out to your car. Ugh! I really should start packing around my own grocery bags….should.
I can’t explain just why but this made me cry. A lot. You are brilliant. Please write a book. I would quote it and dog-ear every page and keep tattered copies all over my house.
Way to give a shout out to someone who is under appreciated but like most of us, doing what you have to do to get by.
I loved this!
Thank you and Thank you Mr. Giacomazzi!
stumbled upon you via pink bathroom searches. this post was beautifully written.
Thank you Jules for your nice post. Have to admit that we need a Mr. Giacomazzi in our Trader Joe’s here in Santa Barbara!!!
Such a beautiful post. Thank you for sharing.
Love, love, love your writing, fascinating enough to keep reading, keep reading. : )