Commentary: Checkout line snooping can lead to incorrect assumptions

One of my New Year resolutions was to be more patient while waiting in lines.

No more tense, irritated looks and loud sighs.

Recently, I had an opportunity to test my resolve while waiting in the checkout line at Pavilions. When I felt myself getting flustered, I decided to amuse myself with a game I played as a kid, which I dubbed Supermarket People.

Basically, you create a life for the people in line, based on their appearance and purchases.

I started with the guy in front of me. He was a nice-looking, fit, thirtysomething. No tattoos, piercings or marriage band.

As I scrutinized his soon-to-be purchases, I decided that he was definitely unattached — all single-serving items, mostly from the frozen section. His vegetables and fruits were organic, making him at least somewhat health conscious. A bottle of chardonnay, a wine-with-dinner kind of guy? Two bottles of Evian; no tap water for this discerning guy. Energy bars; a man on the go?

Just as I was fantasizing setting him up with my single neighbor, he dropped the bomb.

“Three packs of Marlboros, please!”

I had a sudden flashback of the hunky Marlboro man smoking next to his horse, back in the days when we still thought it was a cool thing to do. So much for health-consciousness.

I turned my attention to the middle-age woman behind me. She was in business dress, with no jewelry, aside from small, stud earrings. With mid-length, brown hair and small, blue eyes, she was attractive in a plain sort of way. There was a no-nonsense aura about her. She was definitely shopping for more than one person.

On the conveyor belt, there was a large package of hamburger meat, six baking potatoes, a pre-mixed salad and a chocolate cake.

Was she entertaining? Did her adult kids move back home? Her final items all had to do with indigestion: Pepto, Zantac and Alka-Seltzer. Uh oh, aggravation at work? Home? I turned away. This was starting to get too personal.

It then dawned on me that perhaps my fellow customers were playing the same game with me. There I was, dressed in gym clothes and sneakers, checking out all prepared food from the deli counter. This was accompanied by a gallon of butter-pecan ice cream and two bottles of cabernet.

I hope they thought that I was having too much fun to cook, and that I give myself permission for a daily glass of wine and a scoop of ice cream.

They’d be right. Life is good!

TERRI GOLDSTEIN lives in Newport Coast.