What IS It About Me and Grocery Stores?

I've written before about my bad luck with grocery stores. Here's another one. (If you can only click on one, I think the last one is the funniest.)

So, we've been entertaining some of my husband's colleagues from work and we had people coming to watch the Open final last night and I had to run to the grocery store before everyone got to our house. Ana and I picked up Jane from school and headed directly there. Shortly after we get there, I notice this guy who looks like some sort of homeless person, wandering around the store, doing his shopping and talking non-stop. He tries to chat the girls up, which might have completely freaked me out but I'd already decided he was ON something and not really a pedophile. (I mean, he might have BEEN a pedophile but he was so inebriated that I was pretty sure I could take him in a fist fight.)

He, naturally, gets in line right in back of me.

Of COURSE he does.

I have a full cart of groceries and he starts asking other people as they pass by, all drunkenly amused at my expense, "Is there a SHORT CUT through this line?" like he's being so incredibly inconvenienced by how long we're taking.

Naturally, it is almost impossible to get someone to bag my groceries. So I swipe my debit card, ask for $40 in cash back and since the cashier kid is still ringing up groceries, I go to help sack stuff and try to fit all the sacks back into the cart. (Why is it that you know you just took all of those groceries OUT of the cart but you can never put them all back IN the cart once they're in bags?)

I look up to see that the cashier has just handed my receipt and money to the Drunk/Meth/Crazy guy.

I say, "Excuse me, that's my money and receipt."

The kid behind the counter says, "...wha?"

I point to the Drunk/Crazy/Meth head (?) guy and say, slowly so everyone really gets this part, "WE. Are. NOT. Together."

The D/C/M Guy finished my transaction at the keypad so the cashier thought he must actually be WITH me.

I wait there while the drunk guy accuses me of ringing up everything on HIS card. Then the cashier says, "I think then some of his stuff is in your bag."

I say, no, I had placed a divider after my groceries. His groceries are still clearly sitting on the belt behind the divider.

There is a lot of questioning the drunk guy as to whether his stuff is still on the belt.

We can all agree that it is.

He's still holding my money.

The manager comes over and the cashier, who I think really thought *I* was the problem for a little while, explains what he thinks is going on.

We all agree that the Drunk/Meth/Crazy guy's groceries are still sitting on the belt.

I am running low on patience and my poor girls are standing there, silent and with big eyes. So, finally, I reach over and I take my money from the drunk guy's hand and then I reach over again and I take my receipt.

Because it's MY reciept and it goes with MY money. And I am not leaving without both of those things.

I am calm and steely and contemptuous.

The manager apologizes to me for the incident, but sort of under his breath because clearly, we are all afraid of setting the Drunk/Crazy/Meth guy off.

I, the Queen of Understatement, say, "Yes, there seems to be something of a substance abuse issue at work."

The Drunk/Crazy/Meth guy says, "Well, you could at least throw me a twenty after I waited all this time."

I look at him and my voice goes into that, "I'm about to pull freaking parts of your freaking anatomy out through your freaking nose" LOW register that always surprises me because, well, who knew I even had that? and I say, "I'm not really in the habit of giving my money away." (Which, okay, wasn't that clever but the fumes were starting to get to me.) (Did I mention how bad this guy smelled?)

He was paying for his beer and paltry groceries with a credit card when we left.

And then we got in the car and I talked to the girls about how you don't have to get explosive but you can't let people just brazenly rob you. And that some people are just creepy and how this guy seemed to have some sort of addiction... So then they tell me that the guy kept trying to talk to them and I honestly felt a rage akin to... well, I don't know what. But Very Scary Rage.

I think, "Clearly, we have to move."

Which, oddly enough, makes me feel more at home here in New York since I felt that way about 90% of the time after going grocery shopping in Austin.

And then I cooked a good dinner and we had a great time with our guests and by the end of the evening, I was back to center. Which is good because now I have the perfect excuse to do ALL of my cooking at Delightful Dinners, where they do the shopping FOR me.