I Just Got Out of the Hospital, Of Course I Want Some Beer

Last night I decided to make tacos. This time, however, instead of calling B and asking him to pick up all of the ingredients, I took the time to go to the store myself. Passing up the first grocery store that I deemed to have crazy people based on who I saw going in and out, I settled on the grocery store near our house. Yep, no crazy people there.

After getting duped into putting two quarters into the parking meter (it said 50 cents for an hour which sounded like a deal - too bad I was only there for 15 minutes), I went into the store and quickly got the meat and the cheese and headed to the express line. You know it is never express.

As I put my stuff on the conveyor belt, I notice that the guy in front of me seems to be wearing a hospital bracelet. You know those plastic things they slap on you as soon as you are admitted and that B rips off the moment we are past those sliding doors? [Side note - I can never get those damn things off without scissors. B must have brute strength.] So, I take a closer look at the guy's arm and clearly see the name of a hospital. Then I look at his items - a six pack of beer, a steak and a pot roast. That man is on a mission. Not sure what he was in the hospital for, but if it has anything to do with his diet, he is headed right back in.

After my observation, the guy turned to me and made nice comments about my reusable grocery bag and just like that I forgave him for his craziness. I am easy like that. Compliments go a long way. Instead I focused on the reason that we were still waiting in line - the lady in front of us. She had the cashier weighing her cookies. Her cookies that came in a prepackaged bag like Famous Amos or something. It said 14 oz on the bag but she did not believe it. And do you think our cashier knew how to weigh something? No. And do you think our cashier was going to cater to this woman's every whim? Yes. One manager later and the lady was told that, indeed, the cookies weighed 14 oz. She harrumphed (is that a word?), grumbled something about 93 cents per ounce (there was no way she was paying $13.00 for those cookies) and bought the cookies anyhow. Way to make a stand.

Meanwhile hospital guy is looking at me like "can you believe this lady?" I give him the look that says "no, I CANNOT and I THOUGHT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE EXPRESS LINE!" We have a moment.

Until a moment later when his things have been totaled and he then decides to pull out his checkbook. And then ask three times how much it cost. Then lament about the fact that he is spending $22.11 (yes I memorized it) on beer and beef. Then ask again how much it was. Then ask what the date is. Then VERY slowly tell the cashier that he is making the check for $20.00 over to get the cash back. Now I cannot even look at him because I know my face will scream "I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS - I THOUGHT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE EXPRESS LINE AND WHY WEREN'T YOU FILLING OUT THAT CHECK WHILE WE ARE WAITING ON THE COOKIE LADY." So instead I make a blank face.

And a manager comes over because the cashier does not know how to deal with the check. Then the man decides he wants a paper bag for his stuff that is already in plastic bags "To save the environment," he says while looking over at me.

We do not have a moment.

I am easy, but not that easy.