I went grocery shopping this morning, and it was a typical trip for us. I forgot several things, spent more than I planned, and the 2 year old was his usual
pain in the ass lovely 2 year old self. Then as we went to check out, the trip became blogworthy. Only in my world right?
I got in line, and as usual there were only 2 checkout lines open- one normal, one 10 Items or Less. Having a family of 5, I can’t even buy toilet paper and be 10 Items or Less, it just never happens. So I get in the regular lane, only to have the 10 Items or Less lady wave me over. It was only about 9:45am at this point, so I guess because they weren’t busy she was trying to be helpful and move things along. I applaud her good intentions, I really do. She meant well. I felt guilty stepping into that express line with a cart full of groceries, but no one was behind me, and I started loading as quickly as I could. Besides, she told me to right? Then it happens. An elderly man comes up behind me with his hand basket and only 3 or 4 items in it. He glared at me and looked up at the sign, as if to point out that my cartload was clearly not meant to be in this lane. What could I do?? She had already started ringing me up, I couldn’t stop the process to let him through, though I would have if it meant he’d quit with the dirty looks…Which he gave me…Repeatedly. I felt so awful, and naturally Damian was ready to get out of the cart and was making a real point of verbalizing this. I loaded as fast as I could, and before I know it there are 3 people in line behind me, luckily none of them were giving me the Geriatric Glare like the one behind me. I made an overly loud comment to the checkout girl about how she’d called me to that line at a bad time, because for some odd reason I really, really felt the need to explain myself to these people. The old man with the laserbeam eyeballs responded by putting his hand basket on the belt, even though I was clearly only 2/3 of the way done, causing him to have to move it back every time I went to put more stuff up there. I was VERY relieved when I got everything up there, and hurried around to the end of the lane to load everything.(In addition to being short checkers, they were apparently short bag boys.) As I am loading the girl stops me and tells me they wil have to call a manager over. Oh for the love of all that is holy, what now??? It seems I have too much stuff for the inside of the buggy, and they are no longer allowed to put things on the bottom rack. HUH? I guess a bunch of their people got fired the day before(thus the shortage) for leaving items in the bottom of the buggys when they helped the customers out. Great, but why do I need a manager to authorize you to put 2 12-packs of Coke down there? Uh-uh, no. Her solution was to tell the bagger to grab a second cart, to which I responded he’s a big guy, let just have him carry them out shall we? I wasn’t parked far away. So he picks them up, and I turn to see the old man looking like he’s about to have a stroke or something. Clearly he was not the understanding sort, and I muttered a quick “Sorry for holding up the line!” as I pushed my cart out so fast you’d have thought my ass was on fire.
I think next time I’ll stick with waiting in the regular line with a Star Magazine or something.