$%#@!
We usually pick the wrong lane at the supermarket. It's just the way it is. Tonight we SUPER picked the wrong lane. There were two customers ahead of us -- one was getting checked out and the others had all their stuff on the belt. We thought we were good. So we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited some more!
The woman up front was having some issue with her bill. The checker was looking at the prices on some soup. And some meat. And some this. And some that. Looking at the receipt. And I felt something rising up in me . . . something kinda like this:
JESUS CHRIST, WOMAN! NOW IS NOT THE TIME INSPECT THE PRICE OF EVERY ITEM IN YOUR FUCKING CART! THE TIME FOR THAT WAS BEFORE YOU GOT IN LINE! NOW IS THE TIME TO PAY YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BILL AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF OUR WAY!
I managed to hold it in.
Still, I think my blood boiled a little. This in addition to some little brat who was screaming at the top of his lungs over in the meat section because his mother told him if he wanted to get out of the stupid big plastic car attached to the shopping cart he was gonna have to give up his cookie. So it was either walk around with no cookie, or sit the fuck down with your cookie. She was trying to explain this to him while he was having his tantrum.
He's like, 3 years old, lady. He doesn't give a shit about the choices you say he has.
So I hated both of them instantly.
Then the dad comes up on them and says, half authoritatively and half jokingly, are we causing a problem here? The kid stopped screaming for a minute, but I heard him later somewhere else in the store. Then we went about our business and I forgot about him.
Until we got stuck in line behind receipt inspector lady. The kid had caught up with us. Actually, I think he and his parents passed us up in another lane because they were at the front of the store and he was screaming again. Again, I felt something rising up in me. Something like this:
CUT THE CRAP, KID! MY EARS ARE FUCKING BLEEDING RIGHT NOW!
I managed to keep that in, too. But I wanted to say it. Bad. I wanted to scare the living shit out of that kid. I wanted him to have nightmares about that grocery cart car and his fucking cookie.
Is that wrong?
Well fuck you, then!
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited some more!
The woman up front was having some issue with her bill. The checker was looking at the prices on some soup. And some meat. And some this. And some that. Looking at the receipt. And I felt something rising up in me . . . something kinda like this:
JESUS CHRIST, WOMAN! NOW IS NOT THE TIME INSPECT THE PRICE OF EVERY ITEM IN YOUR FUCKING CART! THE TIME FOR THAT WAS BEFORE YOU GOT IN LINE! NOW IS THE TIME TO PAY YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BILL AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF OUR WAY!
I managed to hold it in.
Still, I think my blood boiled a little. This in addition to some little brat who was screaming at the top of his lungs over in the meat section because his mother told him if he wanted to get out of the stupid big plastic car attached to the shopping cart he was gonna have to give up his cookie. So it was either walk around with no cookie, or sit the fuck down with your cookie. She was trying to explain this to him while he was having his tantrum.
He's like, 3 years old, lady. He doesn't give a shit about the choices you say he has.
So I hated both of them instantly.
Then the dad comes up on them and says, half authoritatively and half jokingly, are we causing a problem here? The kid stopped screaming for a minute, but I heard him later somewhere else in the store. Then we went about our business and I forgot about him.
Until we got stuck in line behind receipt inspector lady. The kid had caught up with us. Actually, I think he and his parents passed us up in another lane because they were at the front of the store and he was screaming again. Again, I felt something rising up in me. Something like this:
CUT THE CRAP, KID! MY EARS ARE FUCKING BLEEDING RIGHT NOW!
I managed to keep that in, too. But I wanted to say it. Bad. I wanted to scare the living shit out of that kid. I wanted him to have nightmares about that grocery cart car and his fucking cookie.
Is that wrong?
Well fuck you, then!
posted by PlatinumGirl at 8:34 PM
8 Comments:
There's always an issue at the checkout lane. Jeez! I hate it too.
Oh no, I agree. There should be a special "Ian" aisle at all stores :)
Where do these idiots come from? The beauty of the grocery store is they have a label beneath each product saying how much it costs. That lady probably couldn't read.
Oh and I'm not down with parent-child negotiations. It's my way or the highway.
It's not wrong, my biggest problem is that I have a hard to keeping those thoughts to myself.
My husband and I once got in the checkout line behind this woman who had a lot of groceries, but there were only a few left to be checked, so we thought it would be ok. We did not notice the inches-thick stack of coupons she had. At first we were annoyed, but then we were just fascinated. She shops once a month for her family of seven. She had four carts loaded with groceries. Her bill of over $500 was cut in half by her coupons.
I hate crap like this. When I use to work in retail, customers complained about lines all the time. Ironically it was the customers that hold the line up. Ask your dumb ass questions before I hit total and hand you a reciept! I think to many parents are scared of their kids. WTF is up with that?
How do you say, "such is life" in french? LOL
LBB: Word!
Ian: We need some kind of fast track pass or something!
Peachy: We think alike.
HC: I understand completely. In this society, though, people expect they can do whatever they want without criticism. When they get it, they can't believe it -- then I have to deal with their dumb asses in a way that I don't want to!
PM: That is impressive -- I was not similarly impressed by this person. I just told myself that maybe she'd had a stroke at some point and it just took her longer to grasp things. Then I'd have to feel bad for being mad at her.
Pixie: Parents want to be their kids' friends now.
Valerie: I believe it's "C'est la vie."
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