When did checking out get to be an Extreme Sport?
Hubs and I shopped not long ago. Efficient is our middle name. We came, we saw, we bought. Or, we tried to buy. Turns out buying isn't for the faint of heart or the short on time. This was not an isolated experience. Go anywhere, to any retail outlet, and you can expect your experience to look something like mine:
Crazed Cashier (in that annoying, high pitched, keel): "How's your weekend going?"
Right out of the gate she pisses me off with her nosy, fake familiarity. Having waited in line already 30 minutes in front of a guy with a herd of snotty nosed kids doesn't help.
Crazed Cashier: "Any plans?"
Me: "No." Is that any of her business? I know she could give a flying crap about my weekend plans.
Crazed: "Zip code?"
Me: "99001." I totally just made that up.
Crazed: "Phone number?"
Me: "Seriously? I don't want to give you my phone number."
Crazed: "Can I have your email?"
Me: "Why?" WTF?
Crazed: "For our system."
Me: "I'd rather not give that out either."
Crazed: "Do you have any coupons?"
Crazed: "You could get them if we had your email." Now she's smug.
Me: "That's okay." Like I'd ever come back here.
Crazed: "These are buy two get one free. Do you want to grab two more?"
Me: "I don't really need three coffee makers."
Crazed: "Are you sure?"
Crazed: Turns the only other item I want to buy over and over. "Do you know the price on this? It's not marked?"
Me: Now I have to do her job for her? "No, I don't know."
Crazed: "Can you run get another one that's got a price on it?"
Me: "Ahh...no." Like I run anywhere if I'm not on fire.
Crazed: Yells, "Can somebody tell me how much this is?" She holds my scented candle aloft, like the Lion King with his cub. Some kid wearing a headset that apparently doesn't work, lumbers over at a glacial pace with another candle. Crazed rings it up. Maybe this debacle is coming to an end.
Crazed: "Do you have a Most Irritating Store in the World credit card?"
Crazed: "You can save 10% if you apply for one right now."
Me: Faint from hunger and fatigue, "No, I'll live." I shove my Visa toward her.
Crazed: "Can I see your I.D.?"
Me: After digging my wallet out of the bottom of my purse and wrestling to get it out of the too tight slot I throw it at her. The man behind me with the three screaming kids is now so close to me his breath is making sweat on my neck.
Crazed: Pushing my drivers license back toward me and ignoring my death stare, "Paper or plastic?"
Me: "Plastic." I am now in such a foul mood I'm fantasizing about how many birds might choke on my NOT environmentally friendly plastic bag and smiling.
Crazed: "Would you like your receipt?"
Me: "YES." I'm screeching. Heavy breathing guy climbing up my ass jumps back.
Crazed: "Emailed or hard copy?"
Me: "Hard Copy." Crazed can barely hear me what with heavy breathing guy's kids mania - crying, yodeling and general mayhem.
Crazed: "Do you need help out to your car?"
Me: I grab my one bag and run out the front door straight to the McDonald's across the street. Since there's no bar nearby, carbo and fat loading is the next best thing for my post traumatic stress.
Me to McDonald's cashier: "I'll have the number two."
McDonald's cashier: "Small, medium or extra large?"
Somebody kill me.
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