I was bagging a large order for a woman today, and she was evidently purchasing supplies for a community group or something of that nature, in addition to a few personal grocery items. Her personal items came along last, and she asked me to tie off the bags. A fairly common request from people needing to differentiate between seperate orders.
"Not the tops", she instructed. I was baffled: I had no idea where else I could tie the bags. I guess my mental exertions showed on my face, because she looked at me with mild disgust and said "Never mind, I'll do it myself."
Never one to let my own confusion allow some bitch to talk to me like that, I explained that I was a little unsure of what she meant, but I was more than happy to help her however I could.
"Not the tops, not the tops" she repeated, demonstrating by tieing the handles of one bag together twice.
A lot of things can seem a lot more interesting than they truly are, if taken out of context. Snippets of conversation, an in-joke between friends, it's can be really strange if all someone gets to see is the three or four second window into your life granted to the average passerby. For instance, once I was returning some veggies to the produce department, thanks to some wag who decided at the last minute that they didn't need parsnips after all (but that's a subject for an entirely different post). I was placing these would-be purchases back on the shelf when a Jalapeno pepper slipped out of my hand. To keep it from falling to the floor, I awkwardly wedged myself against the shelf, with the pepper landing safely in my bikini zone. Now at this moment, it would seem perfectly reasonable to reach down, get the pepper, and be done with it, but to anyone walking in at this particular juncture, it would've seemed as if I'd just fondled myself with a Jalapeno, which I then placed on the shelf. Perception is reality folks, and I'd have a hard time making my story stick if a customer were to complain to management about my bizarre vegetable fetish (I swear, I wasn't even working the day that thing with the cucumbers happened).
Ahem.
But I think you can see what I'm getting at here; the weirdest shit can happen (or seem to) when you don't know the whole story. Take, for example, these snippets of conversations that I've heard from customers as they shop.
A fussy-looking older lady: "Yes, but if we sell the Buick, what can we do about the squirrels?"
Geek: "...with the +3 Mercurial Broadsword?" Geek accomplice: "Nah, he had a bad haircut."
Wife: "...the cat's been acting up lately." Husband: "So do you think we need a new blender?"
Dude in the meat department: "This is like manbeef.com, only cheaper!"
Me: "I don't care how much you paid for that. The turtle stays where it is."
Hot chick: "If I tried to cram in another wiener, I think I'd burst!"
Dude in the meat department, take two: "I can understand the "beef" part, but the "jerky" is just innuendo waiting to happen."
Lady shouting across half the store: "Honey, what's your PIN number again?"
I think you can appreciate my situation here. I'm surrounded by strange people who have a greater love of the non-sequitor than I have of fresh produce. Disturbing, amusing, and all part and parcel of working at Slaveway.
Ian Sez:He has to be making some of these up. He has to. Right?
I had a fairly busy morning today at Safeway, because god forbid anyone cart anything to the garbage except me. But on one trip to the back room with 3 days worth of accumulated detrius, I had to rush back up front to help a customer out with her groceries. She had four bags, maybe 12 or 13 items in total. Not heavy at all. But that's fine; she wants a had, I'll give her a hand.
As we're walking out, she says "Oh, I only came in for two things, and I wound up with (Glances at bags. Pauses for significantly longer than it takes to count to four.) 4 bags."
"Ah", I say neutrally, my mind occupied with the other things I have to get done, "That'll happen sometimes."
"It happens to me all the time" she laments.
Then why the fuck don't you develop some self control!? No one's forcing you to buy shit. If you come in for milk and eggs, go to where the milk is and get some, then go to where the eggs are and get some. Then go to the register, pay and get the hell out!
"Oh well", I say neutrally. We get to her car, and she has me put her bags in the back seat of her car. I place them all on the seat, where they will stay safe and dry.
"Can you put the bags on the floor, please? I drive a little (Pauses for significantly longer than it takes to think of an adverb) crazy (that explains it; she was looking for an adjective she could mis-use), and they'll fall down.
Again, why don't you stop whining about your problems to strangers and fix them? Drive more carefully, like the fucking law requires anyway, and then you can avoid piling your groceries on top of one another in a quarter inch of melted snow on your filthy floor mats.
"No problem, ma'am", I say neutrally, wondering if I'm wearing my "Attention: Inform Me of Your Personality Defects" t-shirt again. It's not everyday that you find a person by whom being talked to is less fulfilling than carting garbage around. Maybe I should feel lucky to have met her; the rest of my day seemed really good in comparison.
![[stocker mentality]](http://www.stockermentality.com/images/smlogo-board.gif)
