Well, didn’t exactly cause a heart attack, but close. Ever been to the grocery store – having to weave your way to get your shit and then – just when you are ready to escape the hell, you wind up trapped in a line? This happened to me today.
It starts off innocent enough. Go to the Fred Meyer and get some shit on the list. OK. My first problem that signals my shopping doom experience: Going to a store I am unfamiliar with.
Now, most places today are all arranged the same. You know what you are going to get and where to get it. Why they have to arrange every Fred Meyer store just differently enough to fuck up your sense of direction I have no idea. But anyway…
You know when you get to the front of the store to check out – you play that little game: assessing the checkers. Ask yourself quickly, “Which one of these checkers looks like a slow as molasses douche?” Then you avoid that line and pick someone who looks like they are scannin’ and baggin’ with a purpose. Yeah – thats the line you shoot for. I do this shopping exercise and load my stuff onto the checkout stand just behind another lady.
Now, if you start to get hosed and the shit is taking too long in front of you, you have a few options.
1. Bail and grab your stuff and go to another isle. This makes you look sort of like a tool though.
2. Act like you don’t mind and read about the Bat Boy, the headline about how to have tantric orgasms, or what stupid star has had the latest ass-makeover on the magazine covers.
3. Throw some other shit you know you don’t need like Tic-Tacs in your pile of shit on the table to pass the time.
If you get stuck though you are done. You are stuck. Grocery Checkout Hell. You can take precautions initially to get into the fast lane with the good checker, but its a Vegas style crap shoot most of the time.
What you cannot foresee is the old lady who is in front of you, who has the 20 pound bags of birdseed under the cart that magically won’t scan. You cannot foresee the guy you thought would be scanning with a purpose completely goes into “blue screen of death” mode when he tries to scan the birdseed. You cannot foresee him frantically looking for a manager and then that manager staring aimlessly at the scan gun trying to scan the shit-ass birdseed 10 times. Duh dude it WONT scan! Just STOP. You cannot foresee the two of them debate how to handle figuring out how to manually enter a price to sell the birdseed.
By now the options have dissolved. I am pegged between the birdseed lady and another person who has already unloaded their groceries behind me. I have too many items to bail. Trapped with nowhere to go. The ice cream is already most likely getting that bit of melt to it that will then refreeze. Many things to vocalize go through the ‘lobe at this point:
“Just give her the goddamn fucking birdseed!”
“Holy shit lady my eggs are getting warm!”
“Are you retarded?!?!”
“I will give you 20 dollars if you will leave immediately.”
“What fucking pole is Rod Serling hiding behind?”
“Am I being Punked?”
Of course, you cannot just shout out stuff. Society won’t put up with it. It does not mean you don’t think it though, so be honest. Varying amount of groans and sighs can be heard further back in the line. Tensions running high. All that can be done is defer to option 2 above. Cosmo comes into focus on the stand before me:
“Get Ahead Faster” (probably an article about Getting Head)
“Sex Tips From Guys”
“Sex After Sex”
Eventually the birdseed fiasco is worked out. They give it to her for the price of 2 10 pound bags that they enter after having some dude lug up two 10 pound bags to scan. (He didn’t just bring up one 10 pound bag to scan twice… he carries up two 10 pound bags to scan each. Dumb) The lady then pulls out the big ass coupon file folder surprise too at the very end… fishing through them looking for the right ones. Where the hell was that all this other time you were standing there?Gotta save that nickel. Yikes. By now I am ready to offer her 20 bucks for all her coupons if it means she can instantly vanish. Finally I am able to check out and get the hell out. By now I feel like David Blaine getting out of that big glass of water while wrapped in a straight jacket.
Get all the way home and unload the groceries. Oh fuck – I just realized I forgot to get the aluminum foil. SHIT ass sucker damn bitch!!!!!