The cashier Stared Blankly At The Little Green Portraits of Past Presidents Oct 26 '11 (Updated Nov 29 '11)    Write an essay on this topic. Tweet Popular Products in Books Mildred D. Taylor - Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry: A Literature Unit From $8 Olivier Dunrea - Ollie From $7 The Bottom Line Cash may still be king, but its been dethroned by the new Plastic Monarchs at Cracker Barrel. (At least while compentency takes a smoke break) At Cracker Barrel on Exit 5 again tonight, where the service continues to slide. I might have to follow through on my threats and drive those extra four miles to Exit 1.  I admit, my checklist of what I expect from the wait staff differs from most. I pay $1.99 for a soft drink, it should never be empty. When I order biscuits, they should arrive with the entrée. (Didn't that little shot cup of Apple Butter kinda' give you a clue?) And the biggest sin committed tonight, having to ask three times from three different people for tarter sauce. Last I checked, it wasn't BYOTS at CB.  But I can forgive y'all for these things and will give my fifteen percent with a smile, knowing some of y'all left four golf tees on your Crack B entrance exam. I'm a little cranky from the hash-brown casserole the cook gave you to serve me, arriving cold and crusty, scraped off the edge of the pan. Truth be told, the dishwasher should have sacrificed that serving to the sanitation gods.  What chapped my hide though was letting competent cashier numero uno take a smoke break & leaving behind clueless about cash cashier number 2.  I know manager lady thought she was helping yelling "Debit or Credit" to the growing line of people waiting to pay, but it might've helped if she'd taken that extra second to see all those silver haired customers clutching cold hard greenbacks in their liver spotted mitts.  The cash cashier blankly stared at her machine in frozen terror, as  manager Paulette Revere continued to shout "the British are coming". . . umm, I mean "Credit or Debit Anyone?" No one stepped up, as the manager's hollow words echoed in the slack jaw silence.  "Do you have a line for people paying cash?" Ma demanded, in a tone that would've made Clara Pellar proud.  "Uhhhh", the manager said, wanting to point towards her subordinate, still blankly staring at the register, one finger stirring in the drawer, like she was trying to finger paint the correct change. "I'm trying to speed things up for those wanting to pay debit or credit."  She finally accepted Ma's money, but she gave us some speech about how doing this was going to make the lady on break mad, like we were worried about whizzing off an absentee cashier. (And really, the only reason she'd have to be mad is if Paulette Revere F''d up giving back correct change.)  But cut manager lady some slack, only she knew the double, super-secret location where they hide the tarter sauce.

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