My wife and I recently took a trip to the grocery store. That’s nothing new. We do that every now and again so we can continue to keep the children alive despite the fact they show absolutely no gratitude for our efforts.
We were going to buy some fresh fruits and vegetables in order to have healthy snacks around the house.
Okay, that was a lie. We went for chips, canned goods, cheese, and sodas. We also stopped for burgers on the way home and ate them in the car so we wouldn’t have to share with the kids. Fruits and vegetables? What am I, a goat? That stuff just ends up going bad at the bottom of our crisper drawer and has to be mopped out with a sponge and a handful of paper towels at the end of every month.
Anyway, back to my initial point: we were going to the store.
Our shopping trips lately have fallen into a routine. Or rather, I should say, they’ve fallen into a rut. This week was no different.
My wife and I arrived at the store, looked at all the cars in the parking lot, and said the exact same thing we say every week.
Wife: “Crowded today.”
Me: “Yup. Why do we keep coming on Saturdays?”
Wife: “We could just go home and try again tomorrow.”
Me: (heavy sigh) “No. We’re here. I’m not driving all the way back here tomorrow. We should just get this over with.”
With the mandatory “It’s crowded” speech out of the way, we climbed out of the car.
We were immediately bombarded by the sound of accordion music in the parking lot. This has been a regular occurrence for many weeks now. Accordion players are like cats. They make a lot of noise nobody wants to hear, they’re difficult to shoo away, and if you make the mistake of feeding them once, they will keep coming back.
I looked over my shoulder and saw a woman putting money in the accordion player’s music case.
“Dammit,” I muttered. “Now he’s going to be here again next week.”
My wife said, “Leave him alone. He’s not that bad.”
I warned her, “He’s a stray, and we’re not taking him home with us.”
I selected a cart, and we wandered into the store. The first stop on the weekly journey is always the deli counter. The same woman is usually working the counter, so I always wave politely and say hi. She has worked at this particular store in the deli department for at least the last two years and she still has no idea how to do her job. My wife and I have started taking bets as to how she is going to screw up my order each week. We have a bingo card of things she has done, and we pick a new square before each trip just to keep things interesting.
This week, I asked her for one pound of the smoked ham, cut thin for sandwiches. She nodded, told me “okay,” then pulled out a sleeve of meat from a pile on the refrigerated counter. I watched her as she fired up the slicer and shaved off one pound. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw how thin she was cutting the ham. I usually have to tell her three of four times to make it thinner than the three-inch slabs she normally cuts.
She weighed the ham, bagged it, and handed it to me.
“There you go. One pound, honey ham.”
“I asked for smoked ham,”
She smiled and nodded again. “Right, we ran out, so I gave you honey ham.”
I took my incorrect meat, said thank you, and walked away.
You may be wondering why I didn’t discuss the order change with her, but I have tried fixing her mistakes in the past and the discussion never goes well. She doesn’t seem to understand why people care so much about getting what they ask for.
Besides, I had just won five dollars from my wife. I picked winning square #6 in the “what’s the deli lady going to botch up this week,” lottery. I chose “wrong order.” My wife foolishly went with square #7, “breaks the scales,” even though the deli lady had done that the previous week and rarely repeated the same mistake twice in a row.
I tossed my winning honey ham into the cart, and we continued our stroll through the store. The rest of the trip went smoothly, except for a rather long wait at the cashier line at the end. Hence our initial “why do we keep coming on Saturday,” discussion in the parking lot. We left the store about an hour after we arrived, with $200 less in our bank account.
We ran through the parking lot to the car, trying not to make eye contact with the accordion player. Sometimes they try to follow, and when that happens, the only way to get rid of them is throw out a can of tuna or something; then when they stop to pick it up, you can escape while they’re distracted.
This time, we got away without drawing any unwanted attention.
Next week, who knows? It’s always a crap shoot.
When next we go shopping, we will probably go on a Saturday again. The odds are pretty high. Especially since my wife and I never learn from our mistakes.
Speaking of odds and never learning from mistakes, I wonder what the woman at the deli counter is going to do next week. She hasn’t overcharged me in a while, so I think I’ll bet on square number 3.
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