After moving to Reno, I discovered Raley’s for myself. Clean. Well-organized. Beautiful (read: “expensive”) produce. Quotes of scripture painted on the walls (why, exactly?). A fabulous organic section. Plenty of vegetarian options. Friendly staff.
Too friendly.
Grocery cashiers that comment on my haul tromp on my nerves.
Like everything else, I procrastinate my grocery shopping. Thus, when I reach the checkout stands, I have to muster some serious muscle to heave-ho my cart into the shortest lane I can find. And when it’s my turn to hand the grocer my whole paycheck, I shove my cart toward the cashier and watch their eyes bug out of their heads as they note the magnitude of my purchase.
(I can only image the looks they gave my mother when we were small and she brought them two carts—one overflowing with groceries and the other overflowing with whiny children.)
Then, as a consolation for the increased amount of work they have to do with just this one customer, they amuse themselves by commenting on the goods I’m buying.
They say: Are these Amy’s pizzas any good?
I hear: That’s a whole lot of organic frozen pizzas—trying to trick yourself into thinking you’re healthy while abnegating healthy cooking techniques?
They say: Whoa, this looks tasty—you’ve got every kind of candy in this mixed bag!
I hear: What a pig.
They say: Is this new diet soda any good?
I hear: Don’t you ever drink water? Does “dehydration” mean anything to you?
They say: Wow, three cases! That’s a lot of bottled water.
I hear: Planet killer!
They say: That vegetarian foccacia is really good—have you had it before?
I hear: Yet another frozen meal. What is your problem, lady?
They say: Are these Dr. Scholl’s heel inserts really comfy?
I hear: You bought eight sets of these things? C’mere, let me see your troll feet!
They say: This light string cheese is really good. I can’t tell a difference between this and the leaded stuff, can you?
I hear: Light string cheese? Who are you kidding? I’ll bet you eat the whole bag at once.
And last, as a finale of sorts:
They say: Ma’am, would you like to keep this gum out?
I (actually) say: No, I don’t carry a purse.
They hear: No. I’m a disorganized slob.
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4 comments:
I am telling you that online grocery shopping is the bomb. Plus, they carry it inside your house.
i want to drive out there solo and see you ...
thoughts?
The problem is that I can attest that most of what you think they are thinking is true! When Morgan worked at Albertsons he used to actually say the mean stuff out loud! Imagine buying femine hygine products in his aisle! Good thing he is so cute or else he probably would have been slapped!
I have some to add:
"It looks like you're having a party."
or
"You've got some lucky chocolate milk lovers at your house."
or
"Are you making salsa? I like salsa."
or as I stock up on female supplies, "How many women you got living with ya!?"
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