Another drama unfolds at my neighborhood grocery store.
There I was in Biscuits, Crackers and Chips, reading the sodium content on a box of Triscuits, when I hear a woman yelling at another woman who’s standing too close to her.
“You’re not obeying the 6 foot rule,” she snaps.
“Well, then neither are you,” says the other lady. In other words, back off baby if you’re that bothered.
I continue reading, thinking that was that, when nutjob number one starts screaming for the manager.
Let me clue you in on Manager Bob. Bodies show more emotion, since, he’s about as connected as a loose spark plug on an abandoned Chevy, so when he ambles over with a box of sardines, her yelling did nothing but detain him from canned fish.
“WHAT KIND OF STORE IS THIS?!” she bellows, “NOT PROTECTING YOUR CUSTOMERS!!!”
At this point I’m just listening, trying, SO HARD to, as they recommend in 12 Step, bless her, change me, since I longed to crack her with my crackers.
The market, believe me, is doing the best they can. Every worker is masked and gloved, still managing to do their job though I’m certain, would prefer not to be there. Essential workers, if they choose to stay home, don’t get paid by the way, madam, and no, I’m still behaving as I comparison shop.
The woman she got angry at, I can see, is about to blow like a front tire as she’s waiting for Victor, who looks like a heart surgeon, slicing cheese in his aqua green mask, completes her order.
I long to say, play nice, like a kindergarten teacher, but am still holding my tongue.
BUT THEN SHE CAME AFTER ME!
“I need saltines,’ she snarls, “how long to you expect to be there, I’m in a hurry!”
OKAY, THAT’S IT MA’AM, AND IF I HAD A GUN, YOU’D BE NEXT TO THE VEAL, PROOF ENOUGH WHY IT’S IMPORTANT I NEVER OWN A FIREARM.
“Madam, I’ve stood here while you’ve abused everyone in your path, well, IT STOPS HERE! IF YOU’RE THAT NERVOUS, FROM NOW ON, HAVE YOUR NEEDS DELIVERED.”
“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME HOW I SHOULD DO THINGS…WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ?!”
Now here’s the best part, proof that, humor is even better than an Uzi.
The lady she verbally assaulted flips around like a tortilla in a track suit and says, “YOU KNOW WHO SHE IS, SHE’S A WOMAN BUYING CRACKERS, AND YOU’RE CERTIFIABLY NUTS.”
Well, alrighty then.
Finally this crazy woman shut-up, as I decide, nah, Triscuits are just a bit too high in salt, choosing Bremner Wafers, instead.
Welcome to the monkey house, right off Fifth, to quote dear Mr. Vonnegut.
I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves.
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