Saturday, October 17, 2009
We're Here To Sever
They say that shopping at Publix is “always a pleasure”. Isn’t that cute? I just got back from Publix and I’ll let you decide if this would be pleasurable to you. I went to a different one than I normally shop in because I had something else to do beforehand and right beside the building I needed to get to was another Publix. I drove over to the parking lot which was pretty full and had to park way away from the main door to the store. Luckily the weather has changed and it was actually pleasant this evening so the walk wasn’t too bad.
Before I got inside the store I was greeted by a veteran who was collecting money for some veterans organization. Of course I gave them money and thanked them for their service. As I was turning away, an old man came up behind me to give the veterans money and stated he, too, was a veteran. So nice to see. Really. Seems rare around these parts.
Inside I went, shopping cart in front of me and I proceeded to shop. At first, nothing of interest happened except that I found gallon water at 2 for $1 so I snatched up a whole cart load of those. (Can’t drink the water where I live. Long story. Don’t ask, I’m not going to go into it because it’s really not that entertaining.)
La, la, la, almost done. Came around one of the last aisles when I confronted a bitch. Now, I shop the way I drive my car. Meaning I stay to the right of the aisle so that others going the opposite way can pass me on the left. Just like on a highway/freeway. I was just coming to the end of the aisle and starting to turn my extremely heavy cart when this stupid bitch almost ran in to me. She was not watching where she was going and looked back around at the last second and exclaimed, “OH!”
I stood there waiting for her to pass. She tilted her head towards the right indicating that she wanted to go down that row and I should move my cart. Nevermind that she has the ENTIRE left side of the aisle to use, she wants me to move MY cart away from the right side of the aisle so that she can turn in to that aisle. Look, I do not go out of my way to start things. I try at least a little to be courteous...more than is required of me. However, my cart had 2 gigantic tubs of cat litter, 20 lbs of cat food, 8 gallons of water, 3 gallons of milk and misc. items. It was heavy. PLUS, I was already on the correct side of the fucking aisle.
This bitch had an empty cart and was trying to maneuver in to a 2 foot space to the right of me with her cart. Pushing her cart towards the left of me, as one would drive a vehicle, did not enter her brain, apparently. Or she’s one of those fucking snots who is used to people moving out of the way for her. Not today, honey. I informed her, “This cart is quite heavy, it might be easier for you to move your cart around to my left.”
That’s when she got snippy.
And that’s when I stopped being nice.
In reply she said, “Well, you’ve just been sitting there making faces!”
Oh. I see. One of those bitches. The face I was making was one that clearly stated, “You are one stupid ass selfish fucking bitch, aren’t you?” while I tried, for a second or two, to move the cart to the left so that I could turn back around to the right to get to the next aisle while she sat there, all demanding and lazy, waiting for me instead of being a decent and intelligent human being and driving her cart like the rest of the fucking world.
Once again, she said, “Well, you’ve just been sitting there making faces.”
I replied, sternly and in a low, menacing, ‘do NOT fuck with me today’ voice, “And I will continue to make faces as long as you continue to be stupid. Dumb hag.”
All she could say to that was, “Gasp!” And move her stupid fucking empty cart to the left. See how simple that was, twit?
So, on I went, finishing up my shopping. Eventually I made my way to the check out stands. Two guys walked up behind me and because they were only getting ice, I let them go in front of me. We all thought, all three of us, that the person who was in front of me was done with checkout. The two guys set their ice bags down on the belt in front of his stuff. A beat or two and then I said, “Um, I think that’s that guy’s stuff that has to still be rung in.”
The realization kind of hit us all at the same time because I swear to you, that stuff was not on that belt two seconds ago. The two guys were under the same impression: the belt had just been empty. Where the hell did all this come from? Actually, they asked that out loud.
Then they apologized to the guy who was standing at the end of the counter, ready to bag his own groceries. He saw that they only had ice and he, too, allowed them to jump ahead. They started chatting while the checker rung up the ice. As they left, they thanked the guy again for letting them jump ahead.
Nothing to me.
How nice.
I started to put my stuff up on the belt. When I have multiple items like gallon water jugs or heavy items like cat litter, I wait until the checker is ringing up my stuff to put them on the belt. That way, I can, say, pull the cat food off of the bottom of the shopping cart, hand it to the checker, have her scan it and then I put it right back on the bottom of the cart. So, I was doing this with the water, milk and the cat litter.
I was handing her the cat litter but she pulled it towards her too soon. For those who do not have cats, the tubs of cat litter have a handle and those handles are metal that attach to the tub leaving a very small space between the hooks and the actual metal. Far too small for a hand, say, to fit comfortably. So, I was handing it to her, she pulled too soon and my hand got caught in that small area where the handle attaches to the tub. Before she completely severed it from my wrist, I yanked my hand back in pain. I actually said, “OWWW!” I said nothing further; made only a stony face and stared at her because if I had opened my mouth again, I would have cursed a blue streak and there were customers around me. It. Fucking. Hurt.
She looked shocked at first but then decided that I was being dramatic. She spoke to the bagger in Spanish, they both looked at me and while I don’t understand every word, I got the gist of it with the words I do know and the expression on their faces. As she continued to check my items, she would look up at me, sideways, with that skeptical look on her face.
Whatever. Let’s just get this over with because I’m ready to be home now.
As she was nearing the end, I went to get my wallet out to start counting my money. That’s when I noticed the blood. It wasn’t just a drop or two. There was lots of it. And it kept coming. I said, ‘Oh!’ and looked at the checker. She looked at me and then my hand and her eyes went wide.
For someone who didn’t speak two words of English before, suddenly she knew a phrase or two. She started practically throwing sani wipes at me. She must have tossed 6 or 7 at me in rapid fire succession. I put them on my hand, they turned from white to red and she threw more, saying, “No, no! Too much!” Meaning, too much blood. She then decided she needed to tell someone.
Oy! I do not like a scene. And I figured it wasn’t a big deal. I even told her so, “It’s ok. No big deal. It’s ok.” Nope. Off she went to go get someone. Fuck.
The lady in line behind me started digging in her purse for bandages. She said normally she always carries them but of course, they weren’t in there today. Still, it was nice of her.
Finally I see the checker coming back and I’m dreading if she brought anyone with her. Thankfully she only brought an alcohol wipe, (HA! Like I’m putting THAT on an open cut. Hell no!), and some bandages. She then stood there, looking at my hand, the blood and then at me. I could tell what she was thinking. “When is this lady going to start yelling at me? When is she going to request a manager? When is she going to sue Publix? Why is that hand still bleeding? Oh my God! Look at all of that blood! I need this job! Shit!” And, “Eeew! Did I get blood on me? Where are those sani wipes? I need to disinfect myself!” I don’t blame her. I would react the same way if a stranger started bleeding all over my counter tops.
I kept telling her, “It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok.” Over and over and over.
She finally finished my transaction while I put the bandages on after applying pressure to get the bleeding to stop and suddenly, she didn’t speak much English anymore.
Of course.
I headed out the door, a different door than the one I came in, noticed that the veteran had changed sides, we greeted each other warmly again, and lo and behold...my car was in the row of cars directly outside this door.
Now, one could look at the negative and say, “Damn, shopping at Publix doesn’t sound like much of a pleasure” but I like to focus on the positive. At least the hag bitch with the cart got attitude with me in English, I did get some pleasure from wiping that skeptical bitch look off the checker’s face when she realized, “HOLY shit! I DID actually hurt her! She wasn’t being dramatic! Fuck!” And in the end, my car was pretty much front door parking.
So, yah, I guess it was a pleasure after all.
