Everyone needs a fleet of flying monkeys to rip the stuffing out of the annoying people in their lives
— Laura
I do my weekly grocery shopping early Sunday morning. I go then because there are less people and that makes me happy. This doesn’t mean I get to avoid people completely. I don’t know about everyone else, but it never fails that when I do my major grocery shopping I always have to deal with some self-absorbed asshole who blocks the aisle or gets too close to me while I’m searching for the new Springtime Oreos. I call these people my “Grocery Store Nemesis.” They are my sworn enemy. Sunday I met the Lex Luther of all my Grocery Store Nemesis. Every single aisle I turned into, there she was blocking the way. If I stopped to look at something, she was there wanting to look at the same thing. This happened in every aisle of the store. And she even looked evil. She wore a pink baseball cap and had a look on her face that could best be described as “smelling shit.”
I didn’t see her as I headed for the checkout. Thank God. I was unloading my groceries, and was in front of my cart placing items on the belt and then BAM! there she was in line right behind me. Her cart was so close to mine there was no slipping around and getting behind it again. Well played, Shit Smelling Lady. I looked at her and she looked at me. I heard the theme to “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” in my head. I then thrust my cart back so it hit hers. Her eyes narrowed. My eyes narrowed, and between clinched teeth I said “Excuse me” all Clint Eastwood like. Well in my head it was. She reluctantly moved her cart back. I could feel the glare of her eyes on the back of my neck. After the cashier rang my stuff up I made certain I stood by the credit card machine a bit too long. Take that Shit Smelling Lady. You have to wait while I place the receipts carefully in my wallet and slowly put the wallet in my purse. Ha. I then thanked the bagboy and casually strolled out of the store.
I loaded the groceries into my car and as I was starting it up I spied Shit Smelling Lady exiting the store. My eyes narrowed and aloud in my car I said to no one, “Till we meet again, Shit Smelling Lady. Till we meet again.”
Now here’s a picture of goats wearing pink chains taken by Jan at Cascade Exposures.
P.S. You all probably think I spent all of my weekend at grocery stores because I wrote about an experience with a serial killer at The Fresh Market on Saturday on Advice Asylum. I went to The Fresh Market to get rotisserie chicken. Their rotisserie chicken is so good, I would marry it if it was legal. Wait. I live in the South. It may be.
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16 Responses to It’s like I’m constantly being punished for lying in every job interview I ever had when I told them I was a “people person.” Stop laughing.
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OMG EVERYTIME I go to the grocery store there’s someone like Shit Smelling Lady there. Now I know what to call them- my grocery store nemesis. lol
That is a cute goat.
My Grocery Store Nemesis is usually a lady that smells like shit.
I purposely position my cart in the checkout line so as to impede the nemesis of the day. Sometimes I keep my cart well away from me (arm’s length at least) and then I’m up at the card scanner thingy and my cart is way back there keeping the person behind me in line from crowding me. It works.
Never put your cart in front of you, even though the bagger person is looking at you all, “Hey, I need your cart up here so I can start putting your bagged-up shit into it.” Just keep that cart behind you until you are almost free and clear of the register and all the interactions.
I’m telling you, it’s the only way to maintain the Personal Space Requirements of 4-5 feet.
*** I must remember this. The bagboys get real upset though. And they scare me when they get upset. ~Laura
I would have said “hey, I’ve already had my prostate checked, thanks”…but I guess that is kinda gender specific.
*** It would confuse them though. Hmmm. ~Laura
I can safely vouch for rotisserie chicken being marriage material, at least as far as my sister in law was concerned. She was in no shape to be picky, to be fair.
I sometimes do the exact opposite if I think it will work on the space-intruders. I move in closer, and closer, and smile a BIG smile with all my teeth. More, if I can borrow some. And I whisper.
“Hi” I breathe in their face. “Nice mole…. huh…huh… huh…”
They either move away discomfitted or ask me if they can marry my sister-in-law.
I can’t find those damn Spring time Oreos to save my life. And T-Rex help me if I bring the PLAIN Oreos home. My son will NOT touch them.
*** If you seriously need them, I found them and can ship some. I’ll hook ya up. Drop me an email. ~Laura
Ugh. I always have some dumbass in my way at the stores.
I love all the goat pics you put up.
Because pink chains are the PERFECT accessory! I think that everyone should be wearing pink chains this season.
I hate hate hate grocery shopping and want to stab stab stab everyone in my way. Especially idiots in the self check-out line who fail to be smarter than the machine. Anyone that dumb shouldn’t be allowed out of their stable without adequate supervision. Goats are way smarter and should be able to live in their houses. Or at MY house anyway.
*** At my house too! ~Laura
I’ve had all kinds of bad shit happen to me when I’m in the checkout line at the local Piggly Wiggly. Seriously! I’ve had my credit card stolen multiple times, car keys, hat (although I really don’t need to wear one any more) and much, much more. The other day, when exiting the store, I noticed my pants were missing. WTF? I finally figured it out. It’s that god damn trick question they keep asking me when I’m checking out. You know, the “Do you want paper or plastic?” one. It’s meant to confuse you. It’s nothing more than a ploy – magician’s misdirection if you will – meant to lure you into a state of vulnerability so that ultimately you will take your eye off the ball. I don’t know about you but the world pretty much stops for me every time they casually throw that little paradoxical conflict out at me, especially when I’m trying to reconcile the devious antics of the checkout clerk and at the same time redirect the attention of the bagger so he won’t spot the case of soda I “accidentally” left on the under rack of my shopping cart. These people are pure evil…
***HA! HA! ~Laura
I refuse to go grocery shopping. Well, I TRY to refuse. I hate it.
I really need to change where I shop. Where I go they bag my stuff and then stand there with their arms crossed leaning back in the register and stare at you like “WHY DIDNT YOU PUT YOUR GROCERIES ON YOUR CART YET?” and I stand there glaring back at them like “IM NOT PUTTING THESE BAGS IN THAT FUCKING CART, THIS IS NOT ALDI’S.” It’s like a stand off…and it is just the principal… I get so damn mad I want to put them in the cart and push them into traffic.
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR…
**Do it! Shove their asses n your cart and push them out into the street! Take pictures when you do too. ~Laura
I hate the grocery store!
I hate the register people and I really hate the baggers!
stab stab stab
I was bending over getting a can of vegetables yesterday and a woman ran into me with her cart, looked up and said OH.
**You should have blammed her in the head with a can. Just sayin’. ~Laura
NEVER, EVER bend over when you’re getting a can of vegetables…that’s like grabbing a bar of soap in a prison shower (no offense to any ex-cons on the thread). And if you do need to get something off the bottom shelf…make sure you have a shiv…or at least these F’n Oreos you people seem obsessed with. I know they frighten me.
Cue
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ennio_Morricone“ Ennio Morricone
In Jersey, we always have other people pump our gas, but having someone else bag your groceries is the exception rather than the rule.
**The linkage won’t work here, Jim. ~Laura
I can think of no circumstance that would lead me to describe myself as a “people person.”