Monday, June 27, 2011

It happened AGAIN! (almost) ...

If you've read my previous posts, you may remember how much I hate shopping. And ... about how the carts full of stuff I've gathered and parked momentarily out of the way (whilst I run back to grab something more) get taken away.

Can you believe it happened AGAIN?!? I was doing my monthly mega-shopping (with more than usual because we're having a houseful of company for the holiday weekend). I had two carts heaped up to the rafters and made my way to the checkout area. Then I realized I still needed one more thing from the dairy aisle. I pushed my carts where they'd not be in anyone's way, and went quickly to fetch what I needed. When I returned to where I'd left the carts, they were GONE! I scanned the area and, sure enough, they were definitely gone.

One cashier, who had nobody in her line, was chewing her fingernails and looking a tad suspicious to me. I squinted one eye and glowered in her direction until she caught my stare. Then guess what she did? She called over to the front-end manager and told her "this lady's looking for her stuff." The FEM brought my carts back, apologizing profusely. She said, "She told me this stuff was abandoned. I don't know why she said that." I told her I had needed to get one more thing and didn't want to haul all that stuff back through the store. I was gone not more than three minutes, if that!

The cashier had nobody in her line when I first approached, and she looked up at me when I parked the carts. She KNEW how long I was gone. I suspect she was afraid I was going to go through her line with that mess. I worked as a cashier in a grocery store when I was in school -- I get it. She mumbled a half-baked apology because the FEM was looking at her like she should. I tried to say something like, "oh, that's okay ..." but all that came out was a low growl.

Oh, and before I hit the grocery store, I went to pick up a few things in another place. The fellow rang up my few items, I wrote my check and waited for him to hand me the receipt so I could be on my merry way. But it was not to be so easy. The register refused to print a receipt. He pushed all the buttons repeatedly, with no success. He called for help. The helper couldn't make the register happy, either. Eventually, I said I didn't need a receipt -- I just want to get out of the store sometime tonight!

Ohhhhh ... how I loathe shopping! If I were rich, I'd hire someone to do it for me.