A PSLE continuous writing practice
Theme: Something that was forgotten
Prompt Pictures: a basket full of groceries/Zoom Meeting Logo/a calendar with the due date marked
The fluorescent lights cast a soft glow over the neatly stacked shelves, as I navigated the cart with ease along the aisles at the local supermarket. I picked up a pack of mushrooms, scrutinised it closely, and placed it into the basket. It was my daughter Sarah’s birthday, and her return from the United States after a one-year stint coincided perfectly. I wanted to surprise her by greeting her with her favourite roasted chicken as she stepped through the door. Full of anticipation, I walked about briskly to collect all the ingredients needed for a grand homecooked dinner.
As I reached the checkout, my basket was overflowing with assorted groceries. With a satisfied smile, I unloaded the items onto the conveyor belt.
“It seems that you are going to have a feast!” the jovial cashier wearing a bright red lipstick chirped at me.
“My daughter is coming back tonight and it’s her birthday!” I replied, eyes flickering with delight.
“$156.70 in total.” the cashier scanned everything and informed gently with an apologetic smile. “Our credit card POS machine is down today. We’re only accepting cash or debit cards. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
I patted my pocket and fished out my wallet. Obviously, there was not enough cash in it. I pulled out it from my wallet, a sleek new debit card which Sarah just helped me set up over the phone last week after I had misplaced my old one.
“Sure. No problem.” I assured the cashier before inserting the card into the terminal.
Debit card payment required a PIN. I confidently keyed in the familiar combination I always used for my bank accounts—Sarah’s birthday. After a few seconds of wait, to my surprise, the payment terminal beeped and the screen flashed a harsh red: Transaction rejected. I raised my eyebrows. It must be my finger slip. I tried again, finger gliding slowly on the keypad, ensuring every digit was input correctly. But it failed once again. The smile on the cashier turned into a hint of concern.
“No worries. I got this.” I tried to conceal my anxiety in a calm tone, but the tremble of my voice betrayed it.
I quickly tried the PIN one more time but I was only greeted by the message of failure. A discontented cough caught my attention, prompting me to turn around. A long queue snaked behind me, winding through the aisles. Some people started to shuffle their feet; others scowled at me, impatience etched on their faces.
A surge of heat flooded my face. The overhead fluorescent lights glared fiercely, making me feel dizzy. The cashier sensed my tension and asked if I would choose other mobile payment options. I shook my head with a wry smile. As a stalwart of old-school methods, I had been avoiding any mobile payments in fear of the notorious digital scams.
“Have you got it done?” a stout man waiting right behind me complained. “It’s been ages!”
Embarrassment gnawed at me. I mumbled an apology to the people waiting, my voice thick with frustration.
“Maybe you want to leave your groceries aside before you sort it out.” the cashier chimed in. “We have to let other customers to proceed.”
“How could I forget the PIN? What should I do with the dinner?” I wondered, wiping the sweat off my forehead. My insides shrivelled with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
Just as I was about to ask the cashier to put my groceries on hold, a familiar voice rang out. “George, what’s the trouble?” I turned around and saw Mrs. Bradley, my neighbour and the kindest soul I had ever known in my life, stepping up towards me. As soon as I told her about my predicament, she immediately paid for my groceries with no hesitation, and added, “You can pay me back later. No rush.” Overwhelmed by gratitude, I stammered a promise to reimburse her as soon as I sorted out my card situation. I could not thank her more for getting me out of this hot soup.
The plan of the rest of the day went all smoothly. Sarah was excited when she was greeted by the aroma of the roasted chicken upon arrival at home. Over the dinner, I recounted my day to her. As I finished my story, Sarah giggled. “Dad, I thought I told you that the PIN was your birthday." she explained, "I set it that way because I thought that was easy for you to remember.”
A wave of realisation dawned on me. I hadn’t forgotten the PIN; I had simply forgotten that Sarah, in her thoughtful way, had chosen something I would never forget—my own birthday. It was a small gesture, but a powerful one, a reminder of the love that bridged continents and generations. And perhaps, for me, it was also a gentle nudge towards the world of digital convenience, with Sarah by my side as a guide.
