Articles by
Steve Dennie

Travel Articles

How Not to Sack Groceries

Steve Dennie

When I retire, I'm going to sack groceries. Gonna show those young whippersnappers how it's done.

At Scott's supermarket, where Pam and I shop, I always prefer sacking groceries myself. Not because they'll scrunch bread or bruise bananas, but because it takes those guys so long.

A can of corn comes down the conveyor belt. The guy looks annoyed by this intrusion into his conversation with a classmate in the next lane, but picks it up anyway. Hmmmm, he wonders, where should I put this?

He studies the can for a few seconds, rotates it in his palm for no apparent reason, convenes a task force to determine the best placement, consults the store manager for final approval, and then, finally, gently places it in the sack. Then he changes his mind and transfers it to a cheap plastic bag instead. Now for item twoÉ.

When the checkout girl moves on to the next customer, the sacker is only halfway done, our food bunched up at the bottom of the counter.

I, on the other hand, could fill several bags and be heading out the door before Pam is done paying.

Recently, as I sacked my own groceries, one of the Scott's Professional Baggers told me, "You're almost as fast as I am."

I thought, but didn't say, Duh!

During high school and on summer break from Huntington College, I worked in a very busy grocery store in Pixley, Calif. Not a huge supermarket, like Safeway or Kroger, but we kept very busy. And keeping busy, even for a slacker high schooler, happened to be fun at Pixley Foodmart (which, ironically, was owned by a Mr. Scott).

When it came to sacking groceries, we were fast. Box-boy commandos. We took pride in keeping two or three lanes going at a time, moving from lane to lane, trying to keep the food from piling up. It was a challenge, almost a game (which the equally fast checkout girls also played by trying to get ahead of us). At Pixley Foodmart, customers didn't wait around while a sacker contemplated a box of Cheerios.

My brother Stu, who also worked there, remembers a young Hispanic coworker flying back and forth between three lanes.

"Need some help?" Stu asked.

"No, I've got it," he said confidently.

You won't see that at Scott's. At least not until I retire and show them how it's done.

Unfortunately, we imitate what we see. Our store manager, Jerry, was a hard worker who got out there and sacked groceries alongside us, fast. So did Wally, the head stocker. We saw how they did it, and we copied them. Never saw any bad models. At Scott's, the only examples are very poor ones (none of the Scott's guys I've seen would have done well at Foodmart; they have no pride in what they do).

Mediocrity is self-perpetuating. Fortunately, so is excellence.

Who are the people you look to as models in your church?

Who are the hard workers? The pace-setters? The persons who set good examples to be followed?

More pertinent: what do you model?

You model something. It may not necessarily be something good, but on the other hand, it may not be something bad. Like some of those sack-guys at Scott's, who don't show any interest in what they're doing, yet still get the job done (if you wait long enough). Maybe you model indifference. You're not excited about what's happening in your church, but neither are you opposed to what's happening. You're just there. Lots of people in our pews are just there.

I've been thinking of some of the good models I've known in previous churches I've attended.

Charlie modeled an ever-ready testimony. Any time people were given a chance to tell what Christ was doing in his life, Charlie stood to say something.

Bessie modeled laughter and fun. She had the greatest laugh, and teased me (then a teenager) mercilessly.

Chaney modeled thoughtfulness and fairness. He could see the other side of things, whether you wanted him to or not. When he spoke at board meetings, I paid attention, because he always thought things through. Too man of us are quick to speak, slow to think and listen.

Dick modeled creativity and excellence. The best Sunday school teacher I ever had. He refused to settle for being an ordinary teacher.

Marvin modeled commitment. He didn't teach or lead anything. Rather, he was the one who was always at the church taking care of the yard and gobs of little things which nobody else even noticed. He didn't teach or lead or even talk much, preferring to stay way in the background. But I think he was probably more committed than any of us.

Anne modeled something I can't quite explain. She was an elderly, tiny woman with a sometimes faltering voice who taught Sunday school to a roomful of college students and was wholly beloved by them.

Russ modeled genuine love for people, compassion, a tender heart. A superb pastor.

Nellie modeled a stubborn unwillingness to give up on people.

Dick and Nora's model was just being all-around great laypersons--positive, fun, giving, visionary, supportive.

I can think of other Christians who modeled various qualities to me, but the people mentioned above are persons I saw week after week at church, so their model could soak in pretty well. Not that I'm following their example, mind you. But their example is always before me, nagging me toward righteousness.

I can also think of too many poor examples. People who modeled negativity. Resistance to change. Disunity. Backbiting. Impulsiveness. Indifference. Compromise with the world. Stinginess. I won't mention them by name--you know who you are--but I must acknowledge that some of their modeling lingers in my own life.

Copyright 2005 Steve Dennie