This morning at a Near West End, slightly upscale grocery store, a woman is snipping the dead ends from flowers quietly muttering under her breath. Not in French, unfortunately.
The muttering comes from a simple fact: A French checkout girl has beat her to the publishing punch, and it's impossible to predict if there is room enough in the Western world for two Checkout Girls.
Paste Magazine hops on the Les tribulations d'une caissiere bandwagon with a short bit on French cashier-turned-blogger's quick climb to pulp literary fame.
More than a few Richmonders know we have our own Checkout Girl. She's every bit as candid and salty as the French version, and pens a monthly column for Belle Magazine.
