Just when I started to like humans again as a species I do an inane thing like visit the grocery store. Apparently the International Society of Stupid People is holding its annual convention at the Jewel on Ashland in Chicago this year. Next time my husband is out of town and can't do the grocery shopping the girls will just have to do without milk. I'm sure Crystal Light is just as nutritious anyway.
Doesn't it just chap your ass when you think you picked the good line in the grocery store because it's the shortest only to realize you must have gotten in the "imbeciles only" lane, sort of like the "10 items or under lane" but for morons? So I'm behind what I think is a mother and her adult daughter (the similarities in intelligence gave it away) when the mother discovers the bread she is buying is moldy. It's packaged bread, I'm not sure how she could see mold plus who inspects items for mold in the checkout line. If you are so inclined, please do so while you are still shopping. Regardless, a debate ensues about whether they should go get more bread, or if that bread will also be moldy "because it probably came from the same shipment." They get snotty with the cashier, because everyone knows that cashiers are responsible for sniffing out the moldy bread on their one bathroom break. After a drawn out discussion on the merits of walking about 20 feet to pick out new bread, the mother takes this bold step and comes back about half an hour later. With bread. That they inspect and don't buy.
So in the midst of this intense scrutiny of bread, the daughter had tossed the Star magazine she was reading onto the belt. So the cashier rang it up. Fairly logical. Except the daughter apparently had no intention of buying this magazine and because she assumed the clerk was a mind-reader a whole refunding process ensues. THEN, after the refunding and groceries are paid for, the mother suddenly remembers she had coupons. Presumably not for bread.
During all this, they don't push their grocery cart up so the bag guy can load their groceries. They proceed to get huffy when my groceries start banging into their bags. They have the poor 16-year-old clerk in such a fluster she's about to cry. And then, the daughter says haughtily, "We're never shopping here again!" to which I thought "GOOD!" Except I didn't think it, I sort of yelled it and I suspected they were waiting outside to pummel me (they weren't small people, these moldy bread haters.) But here I am, safe and sound at home, hoping they are hospitalized for non-bread-related mold poisoning later this evening.
PS -- I'd like to state for the record that the man pictured above was not seen at the grocery store today. (He strikes me at a litigious sort so I thought I better cover myself.) That photo is completely unrelated to this post. It's the best I could do on short notice. Deal with it.