By now you should know how much I hate to shop for groceries. It's not so much the shopping as it is the aftermath. And living in Superior we are limited to one change of grocery store, which is fine. In Duluth I have a few other options but the thought of driving to Duluth to grocery shop seems like a waste when I can get the exact same stuff in Superior and really? I can't see that experience would be any better.
(If you follow me on FaceBook you will have already heard about this. And if you don't follow me- you should. Otherwise you are kind of a loser.)
But on New Year's Eve I had to go. Like I had to. We had nothing. I couldn't even scrap enough stuff to make a ghetto meal the next day. When Matt is telling you we are bare bones you know the situation is critical. So I went out at about 7pm. Since we are particularly broke lately I was making it a short trip, 15 items, hopefully under $30.
I made it through the store with little incident but it was the check out line that set me over the edge. There was a young girl in front of me, maybe only a few years younger than me taking FOREVER with her food stamps. Then her WIC thingies. Then she had a gift card. And oh wait, she had a coupon. And oh my god- her pen doesn't work. And oh man, the card swiper thing is wrong- haha- she was swiping it wrong. You get the picture. 20 minutes it took this bitch to check out.
It's my turn, and the kid (with a serious acne problem. Looks maybe 16 years old) is dumb. Like is having a hard time ringing up produce. Like buddy- it's one fucking cucumber at .59. How hard is your job?
And at the end?
(wait for it)
He says, "Have a nice night. Ma'am."
Oh. No. He. Didn't.
He did not just call me ma'am. Fucking a! I am not even 28 years old. I'm technically not even on the cusp of 28, but he's calling me ma'am. This?? Should not be happening to me. Why don't you ask to see my AARP card while you are at it?
So I am leaving in a huff. So much so that I realize their bags still suck and I have to double bag everything. Cheap bastards.
On my way out wearing a cute pair of heels (it's snowed recently, and there is a crappy and chunky layer of ice everywhere. Heels maybe wasn't the smartest choice but hey- handy weapon) there is a guy on the bench outside of the door.
Please note that behind the grocery store is a huge field and then beyond that are the railroad tracks. This translates to the grocery store field being a mecca for homeless people. And not always nice ones who are just cool about being homeless. (And by this I mean those assholes asking for help or donations while standing near a business with a "help wanted" sign clearly posted).
So this guy, old, dirty, and scary looking says to me, "Hey honey. Are you looking for a friend tonight?" To which I replied (and I realize now that maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to even say anything, but I think we're all familiar with my inability to shut up), "Um, what made you think I needed a friend? Because I don't. I want to go home. And eat one of my crappy cans of soup. And because crackers were on sale, I'm going to eat one of those too. Get a better pimp."
Now please know by now another guy has come out with his bags and the kid that collects carts. Both of them look at me, then laugh. Which in hindsight, I'm glad other people were there, because I totally *get* how maybe I shouldn't mouth off to someone who may or may not be mentally sane. And honestly? I probably shouldn't have said anything about my food. But let's be clear that I donate regularly to all of the local area food shelves. And I give money. So nobody can say I'm heartless or ungrateful.
Anyways. Don't ever ma'am me. Seriously. I am not old. If I lost weight I'd be a hot bitch. Emphasis on bitch. And I'm ok with that.