The most sadistic person in our lives today is the security guard who stands at the end of the billing counter, watching us bill the items, making the payment, collecting the huge bags, holding the credit card between our teeth, and shoving the bill inside our bag.
He waits patiently for us to stumble out, watching us with glee as we trip, as we wince at the sound of the egg tray toppling over in the bag, and struggle to grasp the dupatta which has now intertwined with the purse.
The mayhem reaches a crescendo when we, noisily, brush few magazines off the stands in an ungainly near-collision. This melee had ensured that the bill has drifted further downwards and settled under the watermelon.
Now is his moment : he smiles and stops us,
‘Madam, receipt please.’