Grocery Store Conversations

I have done just about every job in the world you can imagine. Most, in my pre-college and college days, were decidedly unglamorous, left my brain screaming "Food! I need mental food!", and did little more than pay the bills. Among those jobs: vet assistant, waitress in a dive, overnight "wrapping technician"*.

The one thing I never had the privilege of even applying for was anything involving a grocery store.

However, based on the recent experiences of a friend of mine** and today's experience at a grocery that will remain unnamed (but slightly rhymes with "Parakeet Meat"), I'm beginning to understand the type of questions that must be on the application.

Questions such as:
1. Has your Momma ever covered your mouth with her hand while you were making a comment? And while her hand was over your mouth, did you keep talking?

2. Has anyone ever knocked you out with their fist in the middle of a conversation? Did you sue them?

3a. Do you believe every thought that crosses your mind must be expressed?
3b. Do you believe "filtering" what you think before it comes out of your mouth is censorship?

You get my drift. Basically, if you answer "yes" to most of these, you are HIRED!!!***

One of the things that bugs the snot out of me is the policy of this grocery store that everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, must be accompanied to their car by another store employee who is either pushing the cart I just finished using or carrying my bags.

Gosh, guys, thanks for thinking of me, but once I purchase the groceries, they are MINE. I can dump them in the parking lot if I want. I can use them for arm lifts, if I choose. I get a little, shall we say, like the seagulls in "Finding Nemo" once my credit card is processed: they are "MINEMINEMINEMINEMINE". And, I would like you to take your cotton pickin' hands OFF THEM.

And, Me, Myself and I will act as my escorts to the car. Thank you very much.

Anyway, I got the teenage kid on Christmas break from the long line of baggers today. My kids were all over the store, bouncing with anticipation at a birthday/slumber party later in the day, and they were in rare form.

Once I corralled them at the checkout, we all started walking toward the car.

Since it would be totally awkward to completely ignore this young man while 1) we walk to the car AND 2) I try to round-up the boys AND 3) I try to find my keys, I attempt to carry on a conversation between the punctuations of "STOP!", "GET OVER HERE", and "MOVE" while digging in my purse like a dog unearthing a bone.

I discovered he was glad he was past the age his Momma had to yell at him. STRIKE ONE. I'm not yelling, I'm correcting.

And, since I figured I must have misheard him, I asked "So you are old enough now that there's NOTHING your Mom has to yell at you about?" It was a hopeful question, in that I would love to have one day where my voice isn't raw by 8pm from having to use it so often for "loving" correction.

His reply: "Well, maybe about homework." DANG. Fourteen more years of this.

Anyway, he returned the line of questioning by asking how old the boys were. When I answered "11, 9 and 5", things got dicey again.

Initially I thought I misheard the chap when he commented "DANG. The oldest is SHORT for his age, isn't he?"

I was really rather surprised at this comment. Not that I am comparing sacker-boy's stature, but I'm a pesky five three on a good day, and I wasn't exactly craning my neck to look up at him.

I said "Really?", mostly because no one has ever made this comment. Sure, he seems tall in some situations and short in others, but it's never crossed my mind that the kid is "vertically challenged" for life.

Thank goodness we reached the car at that point. He put the groceries in the back and was off to verbally engage the next lucky shopper. All the while, probably pondering and feeling sorry for the "short" kid he just left in my car.

I just wonder if, someday, this kid will be escorted to his car by a much younger bagger who will comment that his child has some physical anomaly, like an enormous, extraordinarily large melon of a head. And, I wonder if this comment will come while he's yelling at big head to simmer down.

Maybe, just maybe, by then, someone in the grocery store business will have figured out that hiring employees without any verbal filter actually DOES reflect on your company.

Or instituted a class on "Small Talk 101" or "Verbally Smacking-Down Customers is a No-No".

Or, better yet, developed an employee choke collar that will send a shock every time the conversation starts to turn lethal.

Regardless, even then, when I'll be old and gray and I'll look like I should want help with my bags, I won't.

So, please sell them to me and let me figure out how to get them to my car. OKIE DOKIE?


*In college, my roommate and I decided, for extra coin, we'd work in a shipping plant that packaged together printed materials, such as company receipt pads, credit card receipts--the old type, with three copies, that the machine ran your credit card across, and order sheets. Based on that experience, when I see something shrink wrapped in plastic, it catapults me right back to college, when I was young enough to attend school in the day, work an overnight shift, and STILL have energy for Friday night frat parties.

**Who was told her kids didn't know how to behave...can you imagine the restraint needed not to slug THAT employee?

***EXCEPT the lawsuit question. If that's a "yes", you are too hot to handle and your app goes straight into the shredder.