When I looked up there were at least 15 two liter bottles of Diet Coke being added to my bill. "Those aren't mine", although 10 years ago this could have easily been my shopping cart. The woman behind me grunted and the cashier said, "what? there weren't no bar", which I will assume meant that she held herself not at all responsible for this minor error and would not be taking any extraordinary steps to remedy the problem. I was correct. The woman behind me, who had earlier tried to cut into the very long grocery line in front of me, said "Well it sure ain't my job to put the bar there", leaving me to wonder who was responsible for dividing the groceries, but not so curious as to spend anytime discussing it with these two.
"That's fine, I'm sorry, can we remove them from my bill please?".
The cashier was not pleased. I can only guess that she thought perhaps I was just going to go ahead and actually buy this arsenal of soda as it was now included in my total. "This ain't my fault", which then began what can best be described as a full on attack of the English language with a few jabs at the responsible nature of adults thrown in for good measure. At this point I had no interest in casting blame, and I would guess the 8 people in line behind Soda Lady felt the same. Cashier Lady called for back up, this would involve a manager. Beep, beep, beep, the gallons of Diet Coke ticked off my total, which was, by the way, quite small to start with, this being a quick run to the neighborhood store, a store I detested, for chocolate chips and brown sugar (cookies for school lunch, of course). Soda Lady rolled her eyes; I swiped my card, grabbed my bag, and ran.
"Did you see that? She knew, it was her fault". Soda Lady and Cashier Lady had finally reached an agreement.
NorthSideFour: You're never too old, too wacky, too wild, to pick up a book and read to a child. Dr. Suess
4 comments:
I found your blog on SHEWRITES and think it's delightful. Yes, the bar, the piece that seperates my goat yogurt and gluten-free pretzels from the Vienna sausages and Little Debbie snacks in the cart behind.
Try this: When the person behind you is really loud and crabby and anxious about why the line is taking so long, say in a very sweet voice,"Here, you go ahead of me. I can see you're in a hurry." I'll bet you a buck they don't take you up on the offer, but instead sit back and shut up. It's especially good at WalMart during Christmas season.
Ginger B.
http://coppertopcollins.blogspot.com
www.gingerbcollins.com
The guilty party always runs home and blogs about it.
Hello, my name is Rob and I am a Coke addict.
Diet Coke, that is.
Sitting here in an airport waiting for a flight, I was moments ago nearly in need of an intervention. Thankfully Dan recognized the signs and actually located a cold can of Diet Coke -- the bottles are never quite cold enough. Besides, how better to eat a Snickers -- the offsetting penalty of drinking a cold Diet Coke is unsurpassed.
The strange lady and cashier(with questionable tooth to tattoo ratios -- I bet) aside, do I read the post correctly? Have you foresworn Diet Coke? Is this what happens when one becomes a Mother?
I hope not.
When I stand for my pledge of sobriety, rest assured there is always a metal flask of icy cold Diet Coke hidden in my sock.
Ginger, thank you!
Margaret, clearly. Guilty.
Rob, no, Diet Coke is gone, all gone. I blame motherhood.
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