During a twenty something minute wait in a line at a Walmart in the ghetto, a line that began with exactly two carts in front of us, Andrew and I noticed that the hold up could be attributed to a young woman directly ahead of us who was trying to redeem some sort of government assistance. She had two toddlers with her.
My first reaction was to offer to pay for her groceries.
My second reaction was to tell Andrew that we should just hand the cashier, who was dumbfounded-ly fiddling around on the register, our bank card to pay for her groceries.
But before I could do either of those things Andrew whispered, "I don't think we should have to pay for her groceries if she's buying a cart half full of cigarettes and DVDs."
"Pay for her groceries?" I asked, half surprised that he'd had the exact same thought, half disheartened by what I hadn't noticed she was buying.
"You know, in our taxes."