Larry and I are in Waldbaums, stocking up on sale items and taking advantage of the non-Manhattan prices out here in Long Beach. He sees some 24 ounce beer mugs on sale and adds six of them to the cart.
Our shopping cart is so full that we can not utilize the self-checkout without splitting the cart up into three separate orders. On to the "human" checkout we go.
At the checkout, Larry realizes that we'll need to wrap the mugs in paper so they don't break. We only have one circular, so he pulls the pages apart, realizing that there's only enough to wrap two glasses at the most. He just stuffs the paper into the two glasses, with the understanding that the cashier will see the need for more paper and produce desired paper as needed.
Today's cashier weighs approximately 350 lbs - and she doesn't look too happy.
Click Read More to continue
Larry heads for the bagging area to start bagging, while I load the belt.
Let me explain.
There are six (6) mugs. Each mug has a bar code. I have placed the mugs together on the belt.
I don't know if the rules for checkout have changed, but back in the day, you would press the "quantity" button, then type the quantity (in this case, "6"), then enter the price or scan one of the bar codes. The computer would then do the math for you, saving you time.
But Enormous Vile Cow's pea-sized brain is just too dormant, or maybe she's preoccupied with her plans to storm Taco Bell/KFC at the end of her shift, bellying up to the counter to order a bucket of fried chicken legs, 3 steak burritos, a tub of mashed potatoes, extra gravy, a 32 ounce Coke, and fistfulls of ketchup and hot sauce packets destined to be torn open and squirted all over everything.
Vile Cow now begins to scan each mug individually, shoving them into the mess of groceries as if they were jars of pasta sauce. Two of the mugs fail to scan because of their defective bar codes.
This frustrates the cow, and she grunts and snorts and clinks the mugs against the bar code scanning plate. She attempts to type in the numbers. She tries to scan again.
The cow does not care that the mugs are not wrapped, rather, she sees the paper inside the mugs and tosses it in the trash.
Larry asks the cow for the paper.
"Wha? Oh, I trowed it out."
Vile Cow strains to bend down and lift the circular pages from the underbelly of the bagging area, flopping them onto the counter. She does not provide additional paper, and asking for such would surely result in more grunting, plus sighing and loads of attitude.
We turn to wasting as many plastic bags as we can to wrap the mugs. Who the hell cares about the environment now? We should save it for this selfish, all-consuming cow and her
Larry attempts to help Vile Cow scan the mugs, but it's too late. It has somehow finished, grunting, "Oooh, I don't caaaaare." Does this mean a free mug? I can't wait to check the receipt.
The last item on the belt is our big bag of Iams cat food. Vile Cow somehow manages to lift it - and slam it back down onto the counter after it scans. She is probably pissed because this reminds her of the feed bags she is accustomed to at home and that's where she wants to be right now. Home, with her face shoved into her Taco Bell/KFC Feedbag.
She is so hostile that I wait for her to say something - anything - that will give me an excuse to rip her a new one. I will gladly cause a scene to shame this Vile Cow into checking herself into a fat farm. Maybe one with experience in electroshock treatments for extreme Fucking Bitch Syndrome.
I roll the cart towards the door while Larry begins to examine the receipt to see how many mugs we paid for. We paid for six. Not five, and thankfully not seven.
Maybe we'll just use two carts next time and go for the self-checkout.