I punched in my numbers on the time clock at Food World, my fingers heavy with dread. Although it was just before nine in the morning, the parking lot was already full, and I had six hours of swiping, scanning, hefting, and number-punching to get through. All of this had to be done with a smile, because Food World wanted all it could get for my $7.55 an hour. At least I wasn’t late. One more time and Mr. Owen would can my ass like it was canning season and my ass was a bushel of okra.
“I want you on the express lane, today, Wiley,” Mr. Owen said.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Gon’ have a new girl to train. She’ll be along in a bit.”
“Cool.”
“And I’ve got a word of the day for you, Wiley: Coupons.”
“As in?”
He pursed his fleshy lips together and regarded me with reptilian eyes. “It goes along
