I like people…

Well, generally I do…

Actually to be honest, people baffle me at times. 

A few years ago I stumbled upon a survey that I had done about myself when I was 9 (The survey actually says 9 1/2, quite the matter of fact child wasn’t I?). It listed my hobbies, dream job, favorite subjects, etc. Towards the end, it asked me “What annoys you the most?”. And in typical TJ fashion I responded, “people”. A fact that hasn’t changed 15 years later (Looks like 9 year old me was right about me all along.). Don’t get me wrong, I’m as sociable as most and I love interacting with others. Though at times, I need to retreat to my cave with my fur-child and watch Duck Dynasty to relax from the masses. This brings me to my love/hate relationship with grocery shopping.

As I’ve written previously, I am nothing without a list, however this is not about that. My point today is about my irritation with folks at the grocery store. So many people wondering around trying to find things, aimlessly on their cellphones, and a general disregard for personal space. I simply don’t want to deal with that. See, I like to grocery shop at obscure hours. Why? Because there are less people. 6am is totally prime for me because typically it’s a ghost town, or some old fogies are there, but generally, they’re harmless. Last night, I decided to go at night, and this adventure solidified why I do things my way.

Recently, I’ve taken a vacation on my appearance. Bball shorts, hair pulled back in a bun frizzy, sweatshirts, etc. (Side effects of being a soulless corporate lackey). So much so that my mother gently mentioned during the holidays that I “used to take more pride in my appearance” (In laymen’s terms, I’ve gotten fat and look like shit). My run to the grocery store last night was no different. So keep in mind that I look pretty gross, so why some idiot douche felt the need to hit on me, I’ll never know. I should also mention, that when I’m shopping, I am on a mission, I have no time to be bothered for courtship ( Some exceptions will apply, but very seldom). Anyway, I digress, after mustering up the dirtiest scowl I could give, I proceeded to finish up with my “mission”. I grabbed a “Real Housewives” sized bottle of wine because, hey, I’m a bum and day drinking is awesome. And no Mom, I am not an alcoholic (She reads this blog. One day, when I find the words, I’ll share the story of my “intervention” my family staged during the holidays… LOL. Also, I make no apologies as my writing has turned into a stream of consciousness).

The look I gave said douche.

 Ok, back to the story. So with my wine in tow, and a few arbitrary items, I go to the self checkout line. Naturally, since I am purchasing alcohol, my I.D. needed to be checked. The annoying douche unfortunately was checking out right next to me. He made a little quip about me looking super young so the clerk wouldn’t believe I was of age. His little anecdote was met by another dirty glare (clearly he wasn’t getting the hint that I was not to be bothered.).   So I then proceeded to the self checkout line clerk to give him my license. He was busy scanning coupons for another customer so I patiently waited. I was getting a tad annoyed because it took over 5 minutes and he had not once acknowledged my existence ( a simple “I’ll be right with you” would’ve sufficed). So finally he checked my I.D. and I was on my merry little way. In my haste, I carelessly put my wine bottle at edge of the little roundabout. And of course it fell and broke into a million little pieces.

A loud sound of breaking glass filled the quiet grocery store. Now, it’s bad enough that it was a bottle of wine, but do you know what it looks like when a 20 something after 10 pm is buying booze to only break the bottle in the store? Not very good. So after the many faces of judgement staring back at me which seemed like an eternity, one of the managers came over to help assist with the calamity. In super embarrassment, I sheepishly offered to pay for the broken bottle. The manager (who totally gave me an out) laughed it off and told me I didn’t have to and had me get another bottle. Apparently things like this happen frequently there. Round 2, I grabbed another bottle, successfully finished paying for my things (broken bottle free), then went home.

Since this ordeal took a little longer than expected, my sister, who was waiting up for me asked me what took me so long. After regaling her with that night’s incident, she informs me that everyone in the store probably thought I was some ditzy alcoholic (a thought that already had crossed my mind). I just wanted some damn wine. With how difficult that task was, you would’ve thought I was on a quest for the Golden Fleece. Between my klutziness, the unwanted male attention, and interruption of my grocery shopping routine, I think I think I’ll stick to my morning grocery shopping. I’m sure wine bottles everywhere will appreciate it. 

Clean up on aisle 5 😉