Well, It's the time of the year when I complain, like a madwoman, about all things holiday insanity, including, but not limited to, the delightful attitudes and stunning charm that oozes from our fellow shoppers.
I shall leap right in to the tale of two incidents that happened to me recently, and will then attempt to hold your attention, for a bit longer, by carrying on, as I do, with massive moaning and griping. I shall also inundate you with my bah humbug sweetness. I simply cannot wait, so here goes.
First off, concerning Black Friday, as I've mentioned in columns gone by, there is nothing that would rouse me from a deep, delicious doze in order to gather, with a bunch of total yo balls, (I sense the sheer disgust of Black Friday fanatics across the reading area right now, as I pen this piece), for any reason under the moon.
There is one exception to that, as I have also broached in other pieces, and that would be if I were in labor. Even then, I might try to hold it in until 9 am, or after.
In keeping with my vow, to myself, to shopping locally, with some online jazz thrown in for good measure, I did enter an area store on Black Friday evening, which, at that time of night, I would consider to be “Gray Friday.”
It wasn't busy at all but, there were a few folks at the check-out, one of whom was a nice older gent, purchasing some milk. So, he was buying the milk, as I was unloading the 71 items from my cart, when this exceptionally pushy broad approached.
I happened to remember this “PITA,” (Pain In The *#@), from my waitress days.
She is the type who believes that the world, indeed, revolves around her every desire, from needing a coffee refill to, evidently, seeking assistance in a store.
The clerk was feverishly organizing my items, as Milk Man and I engaged in some light, brief banter. Young Clerk was CLEARLY busy doing his thing when it occurred.
Ms. PITA just plowed right up and asked if he knew where another store employee might be. Young Clerk indicated that he was involved in a prior engagement, at that moment, and would be with her as soon as he could.
Prior to his reply to Ms. PITA, she had probed Young Clerk not once, not twice, but thrice, as to the locale of Other Store Employee.
Try this on for size lady....walk around the *&^% store and see if you might stumble upon her. What a brilliant idea, I know.
Milk Man exited stage left and my stash was still being sorted, rung up, bagged and all that jazz, with speed and agility on the part of Young Clerk. (Hats off to this person as he couldn't have been a day over 22, and he had the patience of, well, someone with patience.)
In the midst of this, Ms. PITA, decided that actually strolling about in search of Other Store Employee was out of the question. However, she had somehow managed to seize something from a nearby shelf, and then had the unbelievable chutzpah to, in the middle of his scanning prices, etc., thrust the item toward him, and ask for the cost.
So, I, in my “I'm kidding but I really mean it manner,” said something like: “Can't you see he's busy—WOMAN?!” Slightly taken aback, she did nod in acknowledgment of his busy state.
Finally, as I was getting my card out to pay, I gave Young Clerk permission to give this overbearing bimbo her price check. (More on price checks later in this piece.)
All was well and I skipped out of the store, having saved $30 due to my possessing a Wellness Card. Isn't that wonderful and absolutely off topic?
The next saga unfolded on a Blue Wednesday, or some other day not associated with stampeding shoppers.
I was casually in line, along with about 4 others. Some of us utilized carts, or baskets, and others were carrying out the infamous, “I-just-dashed-in-for-a-roll-of-wrapping-paper-and-decided-to-nab-17-other-items-and-balance-them,-cautiously, -about-the-body,-rather-than-seizing-a-cart,-or-basket,” hold. Whew.
This is the kind of strategy in which every nook and cranny, of the human body, has an item wedged, teetering and/or resting in a most precarious manner.
Moving along, (which is something that was NOT happening at the check-out station, by the by), as we gazed about the region waiting for our turns, it happened. The two words that every shopper, who has finally reached the “I'm next spot,” dreads, echoed through our minds.
Yes, we all, in unison, heard...price and check, which might quite possibly be the two most hideously annoying words in the human vocabulary—especially during the holiday season.
See, a woman, (of course), directly in front of me asked the cashier to find the cost of an item because, are you ready for this....she thought it should have been a dollar cheaper. ONE DOLLAR, mind you.
Of course, after hearing THOSE words, there was so much collective eye rolling, sighing, head shaking and general body shifting, that those behind her, if hooked up properly, could have generated electricity—maybe even enough to light up an entire town, for many hours.
Ladies and germs, I could see if this were a five dollar error but, one buck? Have you lost your mind you crazed woman? Do you have no shame in terms of holding up the entire community over a lousy George Washington?
Not to mention, yet I am mentioning, Miss Price Check had a dollar off coupon for the item as well.
You know the rest of the story as, of course, the poor, confused, part-time-holiday-worker had to summon help and so forth and so on and blah, blah, blah.
I almost gave Miss Price Check the *(@!$ dollar but, by the time I'd thought of it, she had received her precious discount.
So, there you have it for this week, my dear readers. The season has officially hit us for certain, as the above-mentioned stories are proof positive.
Oh, it certainly is the most wonderful time of the year, is it not?