So last night, after a sweet 11 hour day in the office, I hit up the local Ralph's for some ingredients that make several meals for one. I'm on my way to the checkout stands and I have two choices; the single lane that is open, showing a fellow lonely soul in the box and one sweet lady with her cat food on deck; or the self check. I failed to mention, I was pretty hungry when I entered the food store. So even though Chef Boyardee Stuffed Raviolli, Cheeseheads, and Reese's Peanut Butter cups weren't on my Stickies roster, they got called up to the show. I definitely had too much merch to self check.
By the time I shuffle my way over to the checkout line, its down to me and Aunt May. The checker decides he wants to scan each can of Meow Mix (10 total) in individually.
I've worked in retail. I know there is a damn quantity button that will make this process move swiftly, but I think he’s new. Even though I’ve only lived in the area for a month and been to this particular establishment once before, I’m gonna’ give this 40 year old virgin the benefit of the doubt.
In the middle of this click track scanning, the lady turns to me and says, "Excuse me". I'm thinking, "Oh I get to have a rewarding interaction with this lucid old woman." I was mistaken. She was simply trying to get me to move so she could walk to the Jenga –like tower of Pepsi cases. "Bitch, you had your chance! Get your old ass back in that line!" Of course I didn't say that. I sure as hell was thinking it.
Betty White grabs a 12 pack of Pepsi cans and starts scooting it back, like it’s a three hundred pound ball in a Strongman competition. I'm not an asshole. I see she is struggling and offer to help with my hulky stature. "Back off!" Holy shit!! She is not the golden girl I thought she was. This was crabby old Sophia.
(I know you wish I was done, but this shit hasn’t hit the water yet.)
At this point I can respect her independence so I'm not too mad about that whip she cracked. After she gets her grand total of $13 she pulls out a wad of coupons. =o "No fucking way" (once again, inner voice). She searches through this rubber band wrapped roll-a-dex of savings like a couple of chimps delousing each other, cute and slightly strange. The checker scans them and the lady pays. At this point, I’m just grateful she wasn’t paying with a check, otherwise I would lost my shit. He leans over and whispers, “You’ve just saved a dollar and 13 cents” like its some big secret savings that I’m not supposed to know about. “Don’t tell the brown man. I’m not even going to ask him for his rewards number. (wink)” Meanwhile, I’m pissed because I’m stuck here waiting all this time for $11.87. Grandma gets her cart and leaves to her house of cats, who will probably end up eating her dead body before the neighbors figure it out.
It’s my turn!!!!! I enter my savings number, he scans my food, I swipe my card, and I’m done. WTF!
On my way back I see the old lady being helped by her old husband, who stayed in the old Lincoln. I was wrong about her being some lonely old cat lady. They smile at one another. He kisses her before cautiously rolling the cart to the corral, and they are on their way.
At that moment I reflected on everything that had happened and thought, “That full diapered son of bitch was even worse than she was. He stayed in the car and didn’t help her.” Those two geriatric fucks deserve eachother.