Кадр выше наш. Полное медиа с Facebook запрошено — подставим его сюда, как только приедет.
your-lucky-day.com
I stand at the checkout scanning other people's groceries that I can't even afford myself. That night, I had $38 in my account. Then everything changed."** My name is Hinemoa Tahuri. I'm 28 years old. I've been a checkout operator at Countdown for three years. Yellow uniform, blue apron, scanner in hand. Five shifts a week. Eight hours on my feet. The pay is low. You know how it is. I live alone. I rent a small flat — I couldn't afford anything more. After rent, bills and groceries, there's barely anything left. Sometimes nothing at all. My mum calls sometimes and asks how I'm doing. I say everything's fine. She doesn't believe me but she doesn't say anything. I don't want her to worry. I have a friend from work, Ania — she's also a checkout operator, also counting down to the end of the month. Sometimes we laugh about how we're two girls with degrees standing at the checkout scanning yoghurts. If you don't laugh — you cry. That Wednesday evening I came home late. I covered a colleague
