To the man ahead of me in line at HEB yesterday.
Dear Sir:
You have no idea how much I didn’t want to have to go to the grocery store yesterday. Sundays are by far the worst day of the week to grocery shop. All that cart traffic and the fighting in the produce department amongst the celery and the onions makes me very nervous. Not to mention having to fight the temptation to buy a pack of Nestles’ Ultimates and eat the whole thing without putting even one cookie in the oven.
However, I had to go to the store because we are in charge of school snack today. Caroline requested Rice Krispy treats, so I did what Martha Stewart would do and went to HEB to purchase the pre-made ones.
Because who has time to melt those marshmallows, mix in the cereal and press it all down with a buttered spatula? Not me. I am already woefully behind on my T.V. viewing from last week and if I’m ever going to get caught up, I certainly can’t spend 4 minutes slaving over a hot stove.
That’s why I was at HEB. I quickly filled my cart with the aforementioned Rice Krispy treats, some Ritz crackers shaped like dinosaurs for any child who’s feeling a little more health-conscious, and the always tasty Juicy-Juice because it’s 100% REAL JUICE. I also threw in some Jergens’ Self-Tanner because girlfriend is in need of a little color now that it’s October.
As you can tell from my shopping list, we are a very all-natural, organic, preservative-free household.
I believe if God had intended for us to be all natural, He wouldn’t have given us the ability to create hydrogenated soy oil or artificial butter flavoring. Or tan without the sun.
Anyway, I gathered the items on my list as quickly as possible and then headed straight to the EXPRESS checkout line, where I encountered you. It seemed like a safe bet to get in line behind you because you had followed the rules and had only 12 items. Kudos to you.
But imagine my surprise when you had a coupon for EVERY SINGLE ONE of those 12 items. Coupons, by the way, that you conveniently forgot you had until after the EXPRESS transaction was completed. And then you pulled them out of your pocket and handed them, one by one, to the cashier as SLOWLY as possible.
I was especially astonished at how long it took you to find your wallet AGAIN to complete your EXPRESS transaction for the second time. But I understand. I mean, after all, who would have thought to look in your back pocket?
My favorite part was the way you stood right at the end of the checkout counter after your transaction was completely finished, and it was finally, mercifully, my turn, and you opened up your Clorox wipes and proceeded to wipe down your hands with them. You were very thorough. Trust me when I say there isn’t an amoeba alive that stood a chance against your tenacity.
I watched you gather up your bagged purchases over your wrists and carry them like some kind of torture device to ensure that the germ-ridden handles wouldn’t touch your well-bleached hands.
And as I followed you out of the store and watched you get into your brand new Cadillac Escalade (parked in handicapped parking, by the way) I was so relieved that you were able to save yourself almost $1.50 on your purchases. It made the 15 minutes I spent waiting in line behind you, totally worth it.
Well done, Sir. Well done.
Regretfully no longer a believer in EXPRESS lanes,
Big Mama