Cash With Class - by Fleur Lind

A short story by Fleur Lind

Cash register at Mudwood Studio, Kyogle. Picture: Susanna Freymark

MY WORLD is flavour- somely old-fashioned. My owner doesn't want or need today's modern bells and whistles to earn his crust.

And I assure you, we earn a mighty fine crust. Crispy and white, sweet and tasty, Pavlosky's Pavlova Palace has been dishing up the best fare for over 50 years. We believe in tradition and good old-fashioned values. That's what you get when you walk through our door. The bell over the door will ring and after you've drooled over the displays - figuratively of course - your eyes wide with sweet wonder, having chosen a slice of something nice, you head for the counter.

There I sit "holding up the bar” in all my classic glory. I come from a long line of quality, made-to-last engineering. My body is shiny, my keys poised ready to press in your purchase. My draw is loaded and ready to issue change.

I am a cash register, and I love my job.

BUT. (There's always a but)

I'm old-school. There's nothing 'touch screen' about me, my generation is pre-digital.

I'm finely tuned and have a particular set of skills. Apart from my class and breeding, I'm also an educator in the fine art and rapidly diminishing practice of 'thinking'. I am designed to not tell you what change to give, you have to work it out yourself.

We get quiet days and busy days. Papa P's granddaughter enjoys working for us and practices maths when she gives change. Papa P says she doesn't have to do her homework when she is working in the shop. It's good to know she gets straight A's for her business skills.

On the quiet days, they clean behind my glass window and giving a clear view to the purchase price, or a polish over my keys. I look forward to these dutiful deeds.

When I go for my regular check-up and service, I see the younger, more modern registers lined up with forlorn faces, their wires crossed and microchips overcooked. Their touch-screens are cracked or they are just feeling overheated and run down. That's a result of their fast-paced world, and they are welcome to it!

They look at me with a mix of expressions. Some smile respectfully, others more scornful to see the old timer in the queue. They think they know it all. They are designed to make the customers experience faster, they make a lot of noise and spit out a lot of paper receipts.

I am a register of simple but effective means. A smooth, gentle 'ka-ching' sounds at the press of my keys. My 'easy-on-the-ear' bell rings as my draw opens. I don't make much noise, and that's good for the customers. Less interruption equals more banter with Papa P as he attends to your purchase.

Our customers leave with smiles on their faces, knowing they've stepped back into a world where the only rush is in the sugar from the best pav in town.

Fleur Lind