|Hey, I came THIS close to being arrested the other day at Giant.
||[Jan. 24th, 2008|09:52 am]
Okay, it had been a really bad day. No, bad week. |
Percy’s got this eye ulcer that won’t heal, is requiring weekly vet visits and not so cheap medication. I finally paid off my car and the car, making sure I didn’t MISS having to make car payments, decided it needed to new brakes/rotors and tires. Things have kicked into overdrive at work finally, which is good, but frustrating because I only half know what I’m doing…okay a quarter…am being asked to a do a lot of things that I haven’t been trained for and no one seems to have the time to train me, and I HATE feeling stupid and unuseless. The clients that I thought would have faded away by now, decided they’re in love with my cooking and I am totally stressed out by wanting to “fire” them, but also being a more than a little addicted to the extra money, but freaking out because it’s another ten hours of work every week that I really don’t have time for. Don’t even get me started on Virginia Faire, which right now is at the ugly stage; if you’ve ever driven a team of horses or dogs, the point where they’re sort of milling in the traces and you think you’re not going to get anywhere and have to get down and sort them out; then suddenly they all pull together and forward and well, we’re right BEFORE that point and I’ve got a list a mile long of things I’m behind schedule on. And part of the reason people can’t move forward is because they’re waiting on ME, so I get a guilt dose, too. And, trying to get the separation agreement worked out…didn’t get my niece’s birthday present out on time, forgot to call my aunt on her birthday…anyway. Plus the night before I had one of my bi-yearly insomnia attacks, So, I was exhausted and pretty much a giant ball of stress waiting to explode. Plus there was a full moon.
And here I am at Giant because despite going to two other stores to shop for this client, I STILL couldn’t get all of the ingredients. Every year I forget that a holiday Monday is the worst day ever to shop, in terms of things being in stock. And I’m just getting a couple of items and I want to be home and get this damned cooking job finished and I just want to go to bed and…I watch the cashier as she hands the customer ahead of me his money and then…sticks her finger in her mouth. But I don’t want to make a scene, I just want to get home, so I’m trying not to get skeeved out that she is now going to use that same finger to touch all of my stuff.
I’m getting five items. Small items. She puts some things in one plastic bag (and I’m already feeling guilty for leaving my re-usable bags out in the car, but I just don’t have time to run out and get them) and then she starts a new bag. And I say “No, that’s okay, it can all go in one bag.” But apparently I lapsed into that obscure Venusian dialect that I sometimes fall into, since she completely ignored me and kept putting things into that second bag. (And we KNOW how well I deal with being ignored. Like not at ALL.) And I could almost stand it until she starts to open a THIRD bag.
“No! That does not need to go into another bag!” I snap. “The whole point here is that I don’t want to waste bags.” And I reach into bag number two, which is still fastened to the bagstand, and pull out the two lonely items in it and put them in the first bag. (I know, I violated the sanctity of the checkout stand and I've been on the other side, I KNOW what it feels like. On the other hand, I'm not a pinhead dipshit.)
And the bitch pulls off the bag I’ve just emptied, wads it up and throws it into the trash and turns to the next customer.
Now the sane part of my head is thinking “Jeeezus Keerist, how f-ing stupid could one human being get, if only this was the first time this has happened to me, what is so hard about not wasting stuff, even if you don’t give a damn about the environment, that’s money lost to the company upon which your job depends...grrr, but you need to get back to the kitchen and get cooking, so just shut up, take your bags, snug up your deep hatred of your fellow man and get out to the car.”
Unfortunately, I found the not so sane part of my brain contemplating the best way to get into the checkstand, which direction should I shove the cashier in so that she would effectively be out of my way and would there be anything gross in the trash can AND how damn good it would feel to wave the not-used-and-not-at-all-defective plastic bag in the air, screaming, don’t waste it, for the love of god, at least recycle it, you stupid puke! And then triumphantly storm over to the recycle bin, conveniently located nearby and shove the bag inside.
Although I was pretty sure that after security picked up the bleeding and bruised cashier (because there’s not a lot of room in your average checkstand, lots of hard edges and I was NOT going to be gentle) I was going to experience the joy of having my face shoved up against a wall and my wrists snapped into cuffs. Which may not be a BAD thing, generally. But not in Giant. Under fluorescent lights. By someone in a polyester uniform. I have ambiance issues.
Hopefully this sounds sort of funny now. I gotta tell you, though, it was dead serious then. Oh, the joys of perimenopause, a ball of stress and full moons...an army of us and we'd straighten Iraq the hell out.