I’m becoming far too involved in the lives of the people who sell me food.

 

The other night I was in the line in the 12 Items or Less aisle in my local supermarket. There are a few in the store, but at this time of the night there was only one open. The lady in front of me had clearly violated the universal treaty of shopping by filling up her trolley and high tailed it to the 12 Items or Less – I wanted to throw a box of soot-covered sparrows at her face. As I watched this woman take 17 years to bloody unload her unauthorised amount of grocery items on to the register conveyor belt I wanted to lance her multiple cartons of long life milk with a burning icicle. I essentially wanted to boil her childhood pet in front her eyes while shouting out Game of Thrones spoilers.

 

Thankfully, I was told I could go to the other register, where a supermarket attendant – let’s call him Steve – was ready for action. He had yet to remove his the little sign that politely tells shoppers to bugger off, but began scanning my impulse-buy avocados anyway. Some 30 seconds later another shopper arrived at the scene.

 

Another Shopper, to Steve: Are you opening up?

 

Steve: *makes grunting noise to indicate his register was open

 

Me, to Steve: Emotionally?

 

We both giggled, but Steve didn’t give me an answer.

 

This reluctance to answer could mean one of two things. Perhaps, for him, that book had closed long ago. Perhaps the heart beating in his chest was a mere pump concerned only with circulating blood around his veins. Perhaps the ventricle in charge for pulsating feelings had collapsed into a rusty mess or had seized completely.

 

If so, I can only hope my probing question was the first drop of oil on to that vital machinery. A quick Google search tells me that fixing an engine that has seized due to a lack of oil is generally impossible. But a Gas Engine Magazine article from 2003 says you can try, and something called “penetrating oil” is the answer. And I think Gary’s on to something

 

“Start by shooting oil down into the cylinder through the spark plug hole, and don’t be shy – use a lot of the stuff,” the writer called Gary says. Now, if I’m applying Gary’s advice to a seized feelings motor, I’m going to have to use emotionally penetrating oil. And because I enjoy taking metaphors too far, I’m going to classify “emotionally penetrating oil” as any verbal or visual cue directed at lubricating the cogs which control the hatch trapping emotions in the recipient’s brain to open the trapdoor just enough for a few feelings to escape. This could be anything that might prompt a recollection of a feeling or bring an important memory to the surface, but I just have to be careful to keep things happy. So emotionally penetrating oils could include comments about babies or a grandmothers baking or Colin Firth – anything that could elicit some kind of warm sentiment. And, if I go with Gary’s counsel, I really shouldn’t be shy (this shouldn’t be a problem).

 

Gary goes on to say, “spray some [oil] in every day for about two weeks…”. So it looks like I’m going to have to make my shopping trips much more frequent if I want to see any results. I’m obviously going to have to come up with an extensive list of conversation topics. I’m going to have to keep multiple puppy videos saved on my phone. Not to mention all the bright colours I’m going to have to incorporate into my wardrobe. It will be a lot a work, but Gary reckons it’s worth it, advising, “if you’ve been patient, and if the engine wasn’t too badly rusted, it will usually break free…”

 

And that’s what I want to see. I want to see Steve’s soul break free. I want to cause this checkout boy’s heart bust out its rusty cage of misery and soar gaily over the registers and out the automatic doors, leaving a shimmering trail of ecstasy in its wake. I want to witness it with my very eyes, and perhaps recount the scene to news cameras. That’s the goal I’m working towards.

 

On the other hand, he could have declined to respond to my question because he didn’t know me and didn’t want to engage in an uncomfortable conversation about his personal state with a complete stranger. In which case, the next two weeks are going to be a testing time for Steve.