Checkout At The Supermarket (With Me)

Since my retirement I now accompany my wife on the “food shopping trips”. I find many, many things in a Supermarket that drives me nuts, this is one of them, “women that think they are the only people in the store”.

My story begins with me happily skipping behind my wife while she reads labels and touches every item on every shelf in the store, she has to pick everything up and look at it.
This is the time of year that the stores all sell those colored burning logs for your fireplace, my wife will pick one of these up and fondle it, then she will read every word that is printed on it, she will then put it back and move on, her next item to examine will be a box of “Band Aids”, (we have plenty of band aids at home, and we don’t have a fireplace).

This story though is about the checkout line; at some later date I will post a Blog on the behavior of the “Rude, Ignorant, Maniac, Female Food Shopper” and how my wife can vanish before my very eyes while shopping.

So, after my wife has completed a full inventory of the entire store we are now at the checkout. I am the only MALE in the line. The women in front of me is putting her things on the counter, I have no room to start mine so I stand, I have nothing to do so I stare at the tabloid pictures of “Politically Correct America’s Virgin Mary”, OPRAH WINFREY (Oprah Lovers All Voted For Kerry).

I have a friend in Florida, his name is Kelley, he once said this to me, he said “my wife is like a goddamn Gook, she is always behind me” “Liberal Democrats, please excuse the word Gook”, but that is what he said.
Well at a checkout line my wife is just like that, she gets behind me and won’t move, I quietly whisper to her, “go around to the front of the line and wait for me” she just looks the other way.

Now the shit starts, the women behind my wife is craning her skinny wrinkled neck trying to see what the women in front of me is doing, this Idiot in front of me is lining up all of her crap as though it was going to be inspected by the CIA. Finally she gets all her stuff on the belt and she moves up about a foot, I then move up about a foot, then my wife moves up about a foot then “chicken neck” behind my wife moves up about a foot.

I now place my things on the belt, I place a marker rod behind my order, then I again whisper to my wife “why don’t you go around where the bagger is”, I tell her if she moves there will be “more room in the line”, she stares into space but finally gets it, now she has to squeeze by me and the other cashier, why in the name of God does she get behind me in the first place.

Now, trouble begins, this rotten women behind me starts acting up, she has crammed her whole order onto the belt, she has pushed some of my things in with hers, I grab them and put them back, then she starts giving the women in front of me dirty looks, she thinks if she fidgets and bobs her bastard head around it will make the whole world move faster. These women will spend two hours reading the label on a can of soup then they are all on the verge of a mental breakdown trying to get out of the store.

I’m in a tough spot now, I am sandwiched in between what I call “bitch shoppers”, the one in front of me is just as bad as the one behind me, to make things worse, I now have to Urinate.

The one behind me is slowly tapping my back with her cart; she seems to be trying to push me out of her world. I ignore her, it is the one in front that is really becoming a problem, she is trying to give the cashier some coupons that are five years old, the cashier finally gets her to understand that her damn coupons expired four years ago, so what does this idiot do, she gives the cashier a dirty look, then she gives me a dirty look, then the women behind me gives her a dirty look, then the cashier gives the women’s groceries a dirty look, I look at my wife, my wife is staring into space. I really have to Urinate bad now.

This women in front of me knows that sometime before she leaves the store she is going to have to pay for this order, but she is going to hang on to her money just as long as she can, she waits, the cashier enters the total into the register, this women waits, the cashier tells her the amount she owes, she still waits, then she looks at the register, finally, she opens this “suitcase” that is her pocket book (she could have done all this while her order was being totaled) now she starts rummaging through all her accumulated useless shit that she carry’s around looking for her rotten wallet, now she has her wallet, I glance at it, there is a picture of Hillary Clinton in her wallet, she hangs on to this wallet for dear life, she now says to the cashier, how much was that, the amount is on the computer screen staring her in the face, the cashier has told her verbally twice and this moron asks again.

Now the other one behind me is going crazy, she is sighing and moaning, she is shaking and scratching herself and ramming her cart into my back, maybe she has to Urinate too.

Well the “bitch shopper” in front of me has her bill, $38.65, now if my bill was totaled at $38.65 I would grab two twenty dollar bills and hand them to the cashier, grab my change and get out of there. Not this nut, she starts dolling out bills, a ten, another ten, then a five, then she digs and mumbles and starts shelling out dollar bills, one, then two, then she digs some more and comes up with three more. Now she still owes sixty five cents, Jesus Christ, she puts the wallet away and hauls out a little “change purse”, then she starts counting nickels dimes and pennies, oh God will this animal ever be done, I am wetting my pants, I can feel it. Now she has her receipt in her hand, she should be done right, no way, she stays put, her order is bagged and in her cart everybody, the cashier, myself, the bagger and the wild eyed bitch behind me are all looking at her and waiting, she now opens that damn pocket book of hers, gets out her silly little change purse again and very slowly and neatly puts her receipt in the purse with all her pennies, she then looks at her picture of Hillary and slowly closes her pocket book.
Then, at last, this aggravating “thing” is leaving; a cold chill runs up the back of my neck, what if I should meet her in the parking lot.

Now it’s my turn, my leg is wet and my eyes are watering, I check my order, everything looks good, I have my Debit card in my hand all ready, soon I will be in the men’s room, then it happens, the cashier says “do you know how much this costs” oh shit, Organic Frozen Peas, my wife will always manage to put something in the cart that doesn’t have a price on it.
Well more trouble, the cashier gives the peas to the bagger, then he is supposed to go to the “Organic Dept” and get a price, fine, but I see more trouble, this bagger is about 114 years old, he looks like he just came back to life and climbed out of his coffin, he disappears into the store, “oh god both legs are getting wet”, now the order is all tallied up, the cashier bagged everything and put it in my cart, no sign of the old man, now we all stand there staring at each other, we have our arms folded, the cashier, the skinny neck skunk behind me and my wife, we wait.

After what seems like three hours my wife says, “I think I see him”, sure enough, way down near the bakery we can all see this old man shuffling along with his little red apron on and store badges pinned all over the front, one of the badges has his picture on it and it says “Bagger Of The Month”, I say to the cashier, “I hope he doesn’t have a stroke before he gets back to the register”, she doesn’t dare say anything. The monster behind me is really on the verge of a “Stroke”, she may not have to urinate. She may have “Diarrhea” god I hope so.

The “old bagger” is here, his mouth is open all the time and he drools, he looks all around to make sure he is at the right register, then guess what the senile old bastard does, he hands my wife’s Organic Peas to the “Cave Women” behind me, Jesus, Jesus Christ, she slams them down on the counter and screams at him, “THOSE AREN’T MINE”, the old baggers lips start quivering and he begins to stutter, “Sa, sa, sa, sa, sorry”.

Now I pay my bill, thank you Jesus, I grab my cane and hobble for the Men’s Room, I need a shower.

On my way out of the store I have to pass the same register, and dear God, something has happened that makes me so happy I start rubbing myself all over, “THE CASH REGISTER BROKE DOWN”, I said to my wife, “I ain’t going nowhere, I have to watch this”, the bitch that was behind me is TRAPPED, “hot damn” “wow”. She is fuming, the old baggers whole body is trembling, the store manager is fiddling with the computer and then it happens, the “Barracuda” that was behind me finally lost it, she threw her pocket book over her shoulder and screamed “F-ck this store”, she then ran for the door and disappeared, the old bagger was hanging onto a shopping cart, I was laughing my ass off, the cashier was smiling when the manager couldn’t see her and my wife was reading the bulletin board about a “Violin Concert” in Montreal Canada.

We were about five miles away from the store when an Ambulance with lights flashing went by us in the other direction, I said to my dear wife, “I bet that old bagger dropped dead”.
Author: Red Burtt