I rapidly scanned the various aisles and decided on one where there was one full cart and one half cart in front of us. It seemed the best we could do. I was confident that we would move right along.
*Cue ominous music*
When you have a two year old, you really can't just relax and read the magazines while you leisurely wait on the line to move forward. Standing in line equates to a million requests for all of the various things that are surrounding the aisle.
"I want lipstick!"
"I want cookies!"
"I want a balloon!"
And then, of course, the invariable anger that follows the denial of said requests. It's pretty exhausting. So what I like to do is watch that conveyor belt like a hawk until I can start squeezing my stuff on behind the person in front of me. This feels like progress. This makes me feel like I have some control over the situation.
On this fateful day, however, the line would. not. move. It appeared that the cashier was examining each product that she scanned with great interest. I'm pretty sure she might have been reading the warning labels on each one. I don't know what she was doing, other than driving my blood pressure skyward.
My typical shopping trip (which covers two weeks worth of groceries) last an hour from door to door. We stood in line at least 15 minutes before the first cart in line even STARTED wrapping it up.
The woman in front of me appeared to be having some sort of anxiety attack. She kept looking back at me and smiling nervously. Apparently all the
So we waited.
*GLARE ANGRILY AT SECURITY CAMERA IN HOPES THAT THEY WILL COME ARREST THE CASHIER FOR HER RIDICULOUS INABILITY TO PERFORM HER ONLY DUTY*
Does the cashier not realize that I have bought some meat that needs to be used or frozen by the end of the day? Sitting at room temperature cannot be good for my el-cheapo meat purchase! Not to mention the ice cream I splurged on! WHY?
"MOMMY, I'M HUNGRY!!!"
*Consider ramming my cart into the cart in front of me but assume that causing injury to another shopper will only cause me guilty feelings and not address the root problem of my total hatred of the cashier at this point*
At this point, I FINALLY get to put something on the EDGE of the conveyor.
*Thankyouthankyouthankyoupleasepleaseplease let it end*
I finally being loading my food onto the belt which is moving at a snail's pace. The day old meat is warm to the touch. The ice cream is literally completely melted.
At this point I begin telepathically willing the security forces behind those cameras to PLEASE HELP ME because it has become clear to me that the cashier is trying to kill me. And it's working. If she doesn't cause me a stroke or a heart attack here in the aisle, she will give me food poisoning after I get home. She has all of her bases covered.
"Mommy, I want that!" Points to whatever she sees in the nearby bin.
We FINALLY reach the point of getting ready to pay. It appears that the security overlords have heard my prayers. Another cashier comes and changes places with the current one. I am too relieved to even consider being annoyed by the extra time it takes them to change out their drawers.
HA HA, Marsha! Your evil plan was thwarted at the last minute! Take that! I live to shop another day.
*Tears of relief*
All told, we stood in that line for 40 minutes. Forty. Damned. Minutes. But we survived. By God, we survived!
And, yes, I'll still be cooking that old meat up later this week. Send us your prayers.