When Nice Cashiers Attack
or another morning at the Big Bird
Okay, so I actually went to the gym yesterday.
Hold the phone! OMG, What?!?
I know. It's been awhile. I think the cheapness factor of this particular facility--a meager $12 per month--has made it psychologically okay for me to skip long periods of time. However, my ever-increasing sagging ass and cottage cheese knees have become too frightening to ignore. Me plus shorts equals children fleeing the streets, calling for their Mommy, stabbing their eyes with fallen sticks. Some horrors you just can't unsee.
After tormenting my tendons and such, I ran across the street to a mega supermarket, Giant Eagle to get chicken, some fruit and a veritable shit load of frozen ice cream treats on sticks.
Note to self: for the love of diabetes, don't shop when your hungry and it's oppressively hot outside.
So I get to the check out and the older cashier is all sweetness and light. She's calling me Honey and asking how I'm doing, being all nice and shit.
Then she starts scanning my groceries and tossing them like she's in a fucking corn hole tourney and she's desperately trying to sink a three pointer for the win.
"How are you today, dear?"
"Isn't it nice out?"
Wheeeeee!! Tosses the bag of frozen chicken bits in a three foot arc, striking the hapless bagger in the side of the head.
"That's a lovely haircut."
SPLAT!!! There go the grapes.
What the Hell?!? Her unprovoked assault on my groceries rattled me. As I stood there, slack jawed and motionless, I wondered if it was me or she just had an aversion to food stuffs. Either way, clearly not the best vocation for her underlying temperament. Crazy chick.
Next time lady, take your XanaX.