I work third shift at a data center downtown, which means my schedule is completely backwards from the rest of the world. Grocery shopping happens at 2 AM when the only place open is the 24-hour Kroger on Meridian Street. It's one of those older stores with the flickering fluorescent lights and linoleum that's been mopped so many times the pattern's worn off in places.
There's usually just one cashier working that late – a girl who looks maybe twenty-two, with the kind of tired eyes that come from seeing too many night shift regulars. Her name tag says "SARAH" in those stick-on letters that never quite line up right. I'd been shopping there for about six months before I started noticing the thing.
It began small. I'd walk in with a mental list – coffee, frozen pizza, whatever – and by the time I got to her register, she'd already have the scanner ready. Not unusual, right? Except she'd start ringing things up before I'd even finished unloading my basket. Coffee, frozen pizza, exactly what I'd planned to buy. I figured she was just good at reading people, or maybe I was more predictable than I thought.
But then it got weird.
Last Tuesday, I stopped by after work like always. I'd been thinking about getting some of those microwaveable burritos, but they were expensive and I was trying to save money. I grabbed my usual stuff – energy drinks, a sandwich, some chips – and headed to checkout. Sarah smiled that tired smile and started scanning before I'd even set my basket down.
Beep. Energy drink. Beep. Sandwich. Beep. Chips. Beep. Microwaveable burritos.
I looked down at my basket. No burritos. I looked at her screen. $14.67 total, which included four burritos at $2.99 each. She was already bagging them – actual burritos, somehow materialized from nowhere.
"I didn't pick up any burritos," I said.
She looked at me with those tired eyes. "You sure? They're right here." She held up the box like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I paid for them. What else was I going to do? Argue with a twenty-two-year-old cashier at 2 AM about burritos I'd been thinking about buying? I took the receipt and left.
That's when I started paying closer attention.
Next week, I decided to test it. I drove to the store with a specific list in mind: milk, bread, eggs. Basic stuff. But on the way there, I started thinking about my ex-girlfriend's birthday next month. She always loved those fancy chocolate bars they keep at the checkout, the ones with sea salt and caramel. I hadn't planned to buy any – we'd been broken up for eight months – but the thought stuck in my head as I parked.
Sarah was there, same tired smile, same stick-on name tag. I loaded my basket: milk, bread, eggs. Nothing else. But when I got to her register, she was already scanning.
Milk. Bread. Eggs.
Then she reached under her counter and pulled out one of those chocolate bars. The exact brand I'd been thinking about. She scanned it without even looking at me.
"That's not mine," I said.
"You sure?" Same tired voice. "Receipt says it is."
I looked at the screen. There it was, listed right between the eggs and the tax. $4.99 for a chocolate bar I'd never touched.
The receipt is still in my wallet. I've looked at it probably fifty times since Tuesday. Most of it's normal – the items I actually bought, the time stamp showing 2:17 AM, the store number. But there's one line that doesn't make sense.
Between the bread and the eggs, there's an entry for something called "FUTURE INTENT - MISC" priced at $0.00. I've never seen that on a receipt before. I called the corporate customer service line to ask about it, but they said no such product code exists in their system.
I looked up Sarah online – there are only three Sarahs listed as working at that location, and none of them match the girl I've been seeing. No Sarah on the night shift at all, according to the manager I talked to when I called the store directly.
I haven't been back since. I've been doing my shopping at the CVS down the street, even though they don't carry half the stuff I need. But last night, I found something in my kitchen cabinet that I don't remember buying.
A box of microwaveable burritos. Four of them, like always.
The expiration date is next week.
