Cashiers here say something that sounds like Good morning whenever you enter or leave a store. It means something like Thanks for coming in, which is a difficult phrase to respond to with civility. I generally say Ni hao and be done with it.
The cashier in the Family Mart up the street, though, tends to provoke a little more anxiety. He is tall and pale. He looks adolescent even though he’s not, with greasy hair and red marks from time to time blotching his face. The register is located immediately at the entrance of the small convenience store, so when you walk in you get greeted at point-blank range. No one else is ever in the store, so there’s a lot of pressure.
Today I go in for an orange juice. I get greeted and nervously acknowledge him. I select my orange juice. I hand it to him and he rings it up. I give him exact change.
He hands my receipt back to me. That’s it. He’s just a dude. Just a lonely person manning a one-horse convenience store day in and day out. He’s bored as hell. He’s friendly to whoever walks in.
I try to be friendly back, though it’s always hard between customer and underpaid cashier. I walk out. He says Good morning. I nod toward the street and try to remind myself: he has to say that.
(sunrise) Taiwan (sunset) 