We all know that I have been under pressure lately. I don’t, however, go around wearing a sign that says, “CAUTION: Contents Under Pressure!” (Although, it might not be a bad idea, come to think about.) So, if you fail to notice the bloodshot eyes rimmed with dark circles or the fact that I cannot retain a thought longer than 2.5 minutes, then you may not notice I am not completely sane. I get that.
Last night I went to the grocery store. Late. At night. That way, I could go alone. Gloriously alone. And it is usually not crowded late at night either. When no one else is shopping, I can wander around the store aimlessly without anyone thinking I am a crazy person stalking them. I am just a tired looking mom.
After grabbing up all of the ESSENTIAL items that I had come for, I stumbled to the ONE checkout lane that was open. After standing in line for 5 minutes (because there was only ONE checkout lane open and other people decided to come to the store during my “non-crowded time”), it was finally my turn. Except the pimple-faced checkout dude decided that “Hey, it is my break time!”
“Ma’am?” (Oh, we are so off on the wrong foot now. ‘Ma’am’ is my Mom. Not me. Don’t tell me he was just being polite. I know that. But still. This is MY rant.) “Ummm, it is like my break time, so like ummm, can you go over to like…ummm…the U-Scan checkout and like check out there?”
U-Scan?!! Oh, surely, this child must be kidding me. I might even be banned from using that damn thing, but I am not sure. Doesn’t matter. I won’t use it.
“Actually,” I begin as I squint at his nametag, “Jerome. May I call you Jerry? Good. Listen, Jerry, I have been standing in line and there is no one behind me. I am pretty sure you can handle this little basket before your break.”
“Well…ummm…you see…” begins Jerry before I interrupt him.
“Jerry, take a look in my basket. Go ahead. Look.”
He glances in the basket and then nervously back at me.
“Jerry, what do you see? Go on. This isn’t rhetorical. Tell me what you see.”
Jerry is looking a tad bit freaked out by me and is trying to nonchalantly glance around for a manager, but he answers me anyway.
“Uhhh…Midol, Ice Cream, tampons (serious blush for him), a magazine and a big bottle of wine.”
I look at him hard. “Very good, Jerry. Now tell me, does that look like the basket of a woman you should really be messing with right now.”
“Tell me, Jerry, do you have a girlfriend?”
“Uhhh, no ma’am….we like…uhh…just broke up.”
“Ahhh, now see, Jerry, that might have something to do with your lack of observation skills. You see, any member of the male species who has any…ANY.. powers of observation would take one look at these things and be appropriately frightened and a tad bit wary that the woman buying them might be, how shall we say, unstable. So, Jerry, what you are going to do now is check me out and learn from this. Never, ever tell a woman who has contents such as these that you are going to take a break rather than let her buy these essential items. Items that will greatly effect her stability and mental state. Okay, Jerry?”
Then I immediately spin around to face the male manager who has been standing behind me who thought I had no idea he was there and say, “We are fine here. You may go now. Jerry is just finishing up.” I saw him nod to Jerry as he walked away.
After he scanned and bagged and I paid, I smiled a sweet (and oh-so-innocent) smile, thanked him for his help and walked away.
Poor Jerry. He just might still be standing there in fear. But, some lessons these members of the male species need to learn early. I believe I helped the poor lad to be a better man. Or at least not to fuck with a woman who needs Midol, wine and Ben & Jerry’s all in the same purchase.