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Okies, I got up, made myself an alcoholic mint chocolate milk, and now I’m ready to recount the horrors from today… And hoo boy, were there HORRORS…
Let’s just see if I can remember them all…
Lectured by the bus driver
So today, I went and caught a bus to the store. I read the schedule wrong, and my watch is slow besides, so the bus was pulling away from the curb as I ran up. He did stop and let me board, but then looked at me and started lecturing me!
BD: You ALWAYS do this. Don’t you know this bus schedule and when I leave?
Me: Um, what? 2:15, right…?
BD: No. 2:14. Not 2:15, not 2:16.
Me: <looks at my watch> Oh, well…it’s 2:14 now. I’m sorry, I thought I had time to get here…
BD: <pulls out HIS timetable and sticks it in my face so I can see it> Two. Four. Teen.
Me: Ok…I’m sorry…
I mean, really? I’m sorry, but if you didn’t want to stop because I was late, then don’t. But don’t lecture me!! Plus, there’s a problem with him telling me I ALWAYS do that. Until roughly a month ago, I worked on Sundays, until 4 pm. I never rode that line at that time. EVAR. Wtf, dude, really?
I’m contemplating writing a complaint letter, I really am.
Creeeeeeepy
So I get off the bus at the appropriate stop, and start walking through the parking lot. I hear a man’s voice behind me going “excuse me!”
So I turn around, and random guy approaches.
RG: Hey! Hey, what’s your name?
Me: Um, why…?
RG: Oh, well I’m just curious. See, I tried to catch you while you were getting on the bus at <Street my apartment is on>. You didn’t hear me, I guess
Me:…
RG: So, I’m sitting here thinking ‘Man, I’m never gonna see her again!’ but here you are!
Me: Yeah…here I am…
RG: Yeah, I’m just lucky, you got off at that stop, huh? So, what’s your name?
Me: …
RG: can I give you my number?
Me: I’m sorry, I’m in a relationship.
RG: Oh. Oh, well damn.
I walk to grab a cart and head into the store, and he’s still following me. And then he asks AGAIN if he can give me his number, “just in case”
Me: Um, I’m….flattered, really. But I’ve got a boyfriend, and we’ve been together a couple of months, and I’m happy, so…yeah…
RG: Oh. Ok…
Now, here’s my problem with this. The store I’m at, Kroger? This isn’t the closest location to my street. There’s 1 other, I just come to this one because it’s easier by bus. The metro system is weird, to quote KiaKat, and as such, it’s just easier to get to Kroger B by bus, and it’s about 20 minutes by car. Kroger A, closer to my house? It’s 6 minutes by car. I’m creeped out. Even though the guy was seemingly polite, and whathaveyou it just felt…off. Kind of like he’d followed the bus, I guess? I don’t know. I called my boyfriend, and relayed the tale to him, and I know sometimes I’m an anxious headcase, but yeah. Bleh.
Sample Station Hell
I don’t know wtf was going on, but this store had a buncha sample stations set up. Cool, sometimes I’ll try stuff. Other times I won’t. this was a day I didn’t because I wasn’t interested in the samples being offered, specifically guacamole and tamales. First came guacamole man
GM: Hi, would you like to try our guacamole, made with fresh Haas avacadoes?
Me: Oh, no. Thank you though!
I walk to the end of the SAME AISLE he’s in, come back and he asks me again. I say no again. This repeats several times. (I was in the produce section. It’s not like I left, went across the store, and came back and he forgot me. I was in the same area, never out of sight!!)
Finally, after the fifth or sixth time…
GM: Hi, would you like to try—
Me: I’m allergic to avacadoes!!
GM: … Oh…
>.<
Then came tamale man in the meat section. Again, nowhere I went, was I out of his line of sight. NOWHERE. I showed interest at first, because I do like tamales, I just don’t eat beef. He told me they were beef tamales, so I declined. Again with the repeated asking and asking and asking until I finally told him I was a vegetarian.
Seriously, stop pushing it like a street drug, because I followed what my teachers and parents told me, I just said NO!!
Gaaaahh!!
Ok, in the frozen foods aisle, I was looking at some veggies, and I saw this brand of frozen dinners I like on sale. I WAS waiting to get to it, but the woman in front of the case was on the phone. I think, ‘Ok, no big, give her a few’ Yeah, no…ow. Brain! This is what I heard…
“Yeah, yeah. It says white meat chicken. White meat chicken in marinara sauce with veg, veg and veg (can’t remember the complete description, but you get the idea). It’s 340 calories. No, 340. NO! Three hundred FOR. TY! Uh huh, yeah, 340. Oh, ok, let me see”
Then she picked up another dinner…and did it all over again! She went through everything in that case, I think. I don’t know for sure because after the 3rd box, I walked away…
But wait, it doesn’t stop there! I ran into her again in the bread aisle, which also had peanut butter, jelly and honey. Cell phone lady has a bottle of honey in her hand, and once again…
“Yeah, I’m holding one, it says made in the USA. NO, no it doesn’t say Local. But it says made in the USA. No, there aren’t any that say local. No, it IS American, it says made in the USA. No, it’s NOT local…”
Now, ok, I understand some people arne’t able to do their own shopping, but when someone tells you something doesn’t exist, WHY are you asking the same question repeatedly? Why? Whhhyyy?? Guh
Thankfully, after that, I finished my shopping and headed home.
But wait, there’s more!! I went to a wal-mart. I know, I know. Buh!! But it was the garden center only. Mostly. Guh. So, I get there and dear sweet fucking gods. GAAHH!!
*cough*
I may be white, but I can out “ghetto” you…*
Fun fact. Yes, I’m a white girl. Rather pale, actually, most days. However, for the last dozen or so years, the primary father figre in my life has been a black man. My stepdad has been there for my mom, my sister and me more than my biodad, and he has kids of his own. As such, I’m very much immersed in a lot of cross cultural stuff, and I luffs it.
So, I get to the garden center and two black women, the very walking definition of “ghetto hoodrat” (sadly, yes, race is relavant to this tale…) have stopped their carts right in front of the corner where I need to be, where the fruits, veggies and herbs are. I say excuse me several times, and nothing. No response. I finally nudge their carts outta the way and squeeze on. Oh sweet flying fucknuggets, you’d think I’d committed a felony.
Woman1: Well, I guess we should move, since SOMEONE can’t be as’ed to be polite.
Woman2: <complete with headshake> Mmmhmm, gurl. Sum people are so rude, y’know.
Me: <Ok, if you wanna play like that – I wave my hand in a “No she di’in’t” gesture, and pop back with> actully, I axed if I could get through, but you twos di’int move, even though I said scuse me, several times. I gots things ta do, insteada listenin’ to you.
From the both of them.
Of course, they then try to bring out the race card, and say I’m being racist and prejucided…
Me: Mah daddy’s a black man, whatchoo gotta say ta THAT?? Mebbe I’m not racist, but you are cuz you just see a white gurl.”
Shut ‘em up.
Lupo: 1, Hoodrats: 0
That’s not how you hula hoop!!
In this Wally world, the garden center is just outside toys. I walked over to a set of shelves, looking for hooks and other baubles to help me set up planters on my patio, and there’s a guy in the toy section. I think nothing of it.
Until he picks up a hula hoop and starts waving it around. I see this out of the corner of my eye and glance over, which is apparently what he was waiting for, because he then shimmies into the hoop and tries to play with it. And failed. His idea of hula hooping was blatant pelvic thrusting in my direction.
That is not how you hula hoop!! You FAIL!!
I’m glad I didn’t want those pants…
I then escape further into the Wally world (ack!! Nooo!!! Why??)
I head over to the clothing section, because sometimes they have some stuff I like. There was an older guy there. He was wandering women’s clothing, and stopped by a rack of pants. He then proceeded to fondle them, especially in the crotch area. I decided right about then that maybe I didn’t want to look at clothing as much as I thought. Time to checkout!!
Woot!!! Go Granny!!
I pass the instore McDonald’s on my way to the registers, and I hear some rampant screeching. Seems some guy is throwing a hissy fit because the milkshake machine is down. This, is srs bzns. Srsly. Guh.
Well there is a sweet old granny looking woman in line next, and she orders an ice cream cone. Cashier rings her up and she gets her cone. Milkshake Madman goes mental…
MM: What? WHAT?!?!? You lied to me!?!? How the fuck does SHE get an ice cream cone and I can’t get a milkshake!!
Poor Cashier: Um, sir, it’s because—
MM: YOU SAID THERE WAS NO ICE CREAM FOR MILKSHAKES. YOU FUCKING LIAR!!
Bad-ass Granny: He did not.
MM: <Ignores BG, continues screaming at PC> HOW COME SHE GETS A CONE AND I CAN’T GET A MILKSHAKE?! HUH!?!?
BG: BECAUSE IT’S THE MILKSHAKE MACHINE THAT’S BROKEN, DUMBASS!!
Me <Where I’m watching from the sidelines> o.o hot damn, go granny!!
MM stares at BG. BG glares back. MM slinks off, defeated.
Cripes, if she hadn’t already paid, I’d’ve bought her a bucket of ice cream, AND asked if I could adopt her as a step-granny.
The end is SO CLOSE…but so far!
Finally, FINALLY I get to the registers. I opt for self checkout, and put my bags down. And wait for an attendant to verify.
And wait.
And wait…
I finally flag down another employee as she walks past and asks if she can get someone to help me. She goes and flags down the SCO attendant, who is apparently over preening his manliness to some female cashiers, in friendly game of pushy shovy, and being all “loookit me work it!” when the female cashier giggles.
*gags*
He wanders over to the SCO stand and pushes a button. I can finally ring my stuff up and start. Three of my items are seed packets, and they don’t weigh enough to register in the bagging area, so I have to skip bagging. Once you do it a 3rd time, the machine says please wait for attendant.
I think you see where this is going…
By this point, I’m irritated. Greatly irritated. The SAME employee from before walks by and again I flag her down.
Me: Hi. Can you go tell the SCO guy to put it back in his pants, and come do his job??
Her:
Me: Yeeeeaaah, you probably think I’m rude and obnoxious, but I’ve watched him for the last 3-4 minutes while my light’s been flashing playing peacock over there. Tell him to table the libido and do his job NOW. Please.
Her: Uh…
And she walks off to get him back to his podium, and I’m finally able to complete my transaction and get the hell out of there.
Thankfully the bus ride home was uneventful, else I might’ve gone batty…
Let’s just see if I can remember them all…
Lectured by the bus driver
So today, I went and caught a bus to the store. I read the schedule wrong, and my watch is slow besides, so the bus was pulling away from the curb as I ran up. He did stop and let me board, but then looked at me and started lecturing me!
BD: You ALWAYS do this. Don’t you know this bus schedule and when I leave?
Me: Um, what? 2:15, right…?
BD: No. 2:14. Not 2:15, not 2:16.
Me: <looks at my watch> Oh, well…it’s 2:14 now. I’m sorry, I thought I had time to get here…
BD: <pulls out HIS timetable and sticks it in my face so I can see it> Two. Four. Teen.
Me: Ok…I’m sorry…
I mean, really? I’m sorry, but if you didn’t want to stop because I was late, then don’t. But don’t lecture me!! Plus, there’s a problem with him telling me I ALWAYS do that. Until roughly a month ago, I worked on Sundays, until 4 pm. I never rode that line at that time. EVAR. Wtf, dude, really?
I’m contemplating writing a complaint letter, I really am.
Creeeeeeepy
So I get off the bus at the appropriate stop, and start walking through the parking lot. I hear a man’s voice behind me going “excuse me!”
So I turn around, and random guy approaches.
RG: Hey! Hey, what’s your name?
Me: Um, why…?
RG: Oh, well I’m just curious. See, I tried to catch you while you were getting on the bus at <Street my apartment is on>. You didn’t hear me, I guess
Me:…
RG: So, I’m sitting here thinking ‘Man, I’m never gonna see her again!’ but here you are!
Me: Yeah…here I am…
RG: Yeah, I’m just lucky, you got off at that stop, huh? So, what’s your name?
Me: …
RG: can I give you my number?
Me: I’m sorry, I’m in a relationship.
RG: Oh. Oh, well damn.
I walk to grab a cart and head into the store, and he’s still following me. And then he asks AGAIN if he can give me his number, “just in case”
Me: Um, I’m….flattered, really. But I’ve got a boyfriend, and we’ve been together a couple of months, and I’m happy, so…yeah…
RG: Oh. Ok…
Now, here’s my problem with this. The store I’m at, Kroger? This isn’t the closest location to my street. There’s 1 other, I just come to this one because it’s easier by bus. The metro system is weird, to quote KiaKat, and as such, it’s just easier to get to Kroger B by bus, and it’s about 20 minutes by car. Kroger A, closer to my house? It’s 6 minutes by car. I’m creeped out. Even though the guy was seemingly polite, and whathaveyou it just felt…off. Kind of like he’d followed the bus, I guess? I don’t know. I called my boyfriend, and relayed the tale to him, and I know sometimes I’m an anxious headcase, but yeah. Bleh.
Sample Station Hell
I don’t know wtf was going on, but this store had a buncha sample stations set up. Cool, sometimes I’ll try stuff. Other times I won’t. this was a day I didn’t because I wasn’t interested in the samples being offered, specifically guacamole and tamales. First came guacamole man
GM: Hi, would you like to try our guacamole, made with fresh Haas avacadoes?
Me: Oh, no. Thank you though!
I walk to the end of the SAME AISLE he’s in, come back and he asks me again. I say no again. This repeats several times. (I was in the produce section. It’s not like I left, went across the store, and came back and he forgot me. I was in the same area, never out of sight!!)
Finally, after the fifth or sixth time…
GM: Hi, would you like to try—
Me: I’m allergic to avacadoes!!
GM: … Oh…
>.<
Then came tamale man in the meat section. Again, nowhere I went, was I out of his line of sight. NOWHERE. I showed interest at first, because I do like tamales, I just don’t eat beef. He told me they were beef tamales, so I declined. Again with the repeated asking and asking and asking until I finally told him I was a vegetarian.
Seriously, stop pushing it like a street drug, because I followed what my teachers and parents told me, I just said NO!!
Gaaaahh!!
Ok, in the frozen foods aisle, I was looking at some veggies, and I saw this brand of frozen dinners I like on sale. I WAS waiting to get to it, but the woman in front of the case was on the phone. I think, ‘Ok, no big, give her a few’ Yeah, no…ow. Brain! This is what I heard…
“Yeah, yeah. It says white meat chicken. White meat chicken in marinara sauce with veg, veg and veg (can’t remember the complete description, but you get the idea). It’s 340 calories. No, 340. NO! Three hundred FOR. TY! Uh huh, yeah, 340. Oh, ok, let me see”
Then she picked up another dinner…and did it all over again! She went through everything in that case, I think. I don’t know for sure because after the 3rd box, I walked away…
But wait, it doesn’t stop there! I ran into her again in the bread aisle, which also had peanut butter, jelly and honey. Cell phone lady has a bottle of honey in her hand, and once again…
“Yeah, I’m holding one, it says made in the USA. NO, no it doesn’t say Local. But it says made in the USA. No, there aren’t any that say local. No, it IS American, it says made in the USA. No, it’s NOT local…”
Now, ok, I understand some people arne’t able to do their own shopping, but when someone tells you something doesn’t exist, WHY are you asking the same question repeatedly? Why? Whhhyyy?? Guh
Thankfully, after that, I finished my shopping and headed home.
But wait, there’s more!! I went to a wal-mart. I know, I know. Buh!! But it was the garden center only. Mostly. Guh. So, I get there and dear sweet fucking gods. GAAHH!!
*cough*
I may be white, but I can out “ghetto” you…*
Fun fact. Yes, I’m a white girl. Rather pale, actually, most days. However, for the last dozen or so years, the primary father figre in my life has been a black man. My stepdad has been there for my mom, my sister and me more than my biodad, and he has kids of his own. As such, I’m very much immersed in a lot of cross cultural stuff, and I luffs it.
So, I get to the garden center and two black women, the very walking definition of “ghetto hoodrat” (sadly, yes, race is relavant to this tale…) have stopped their carts right in front of the corner where I need to be, where the fruits, veggies and herbs are. I say excuse me several times, and nothing. No response. I finally nudge their carts outta the way and squeeze on. Oh sweet flying fucknuggets, you’d think I’d committed a felony.
Woman1: Well, I guess we should move, since SOMEONE can’t be as’ed to be polite.
Woman2: <complete with headshake> Mmmhmm, gurl. Sum people are so rude, y’know.
Me: <Ok, if you wanna play like that – I wave my hand in a “No she di’in’t” gesture, and pop back with> actully, I axed if I could get through, but you twos di’int move, even though I said scuse me, several times. I gots things ta do, insteada listenin’ to you.
From the both of them.
Of course, they then try to bring out the race card, and say I’m being racist and prejucided…
Me: Mah daddy’s a black man, whatchoo gotta say ta THAT?? Mebbe I’m not racist, but you are cuz you just see a white gurl.”
Shut ‘em up.
Lupo: 1, Hoodrats: 0
That’s not how you hula hoop!!
In this Wally world, the garden center is just outside toys. I walked over to a set of shelves, looking for hooks and other baubles to help me set up planters on my patio, and there’s a guy in the toy section. I think nothing of it.
Until he picks up a hula hoop and starts waving it around. I see this out of the corner of my eye and glance over, which is apparently what he was waiting for, because he then shimmies into the hoop and tries to play with it. And failed. His idea of hula hooping was blatant pelvic thrusting in my direction.
That is not how you hula hoop!! You FAIL!!
I’m glad I didn’t want those pants…
I then escape further into the Wally world (ack!! Nooo!!! Why??)
I head over to the clothing section, because sometimes they have some stuff I like. There was an older guy there. He was wandering women’s clothing, and stopped by a rack of pants. He then proceeded to fondle them, especially in the crotch area. I decided right about then that maybe I didn’t want to look at clothing as much as I thought. Time to checkout!!
Woot!!! Go Granny!!
I pass the instore McDonald’s on my way to the registers, and I hear some rampant screeching. Seems some guy is throwing a hissy fit because the milkshake machine is down. This, is srs bzns. Srsly. Guh.
Well there is a sweet old granny looking woman in line next, and she orders an ice cream cone. Cashier rings her up and she gets her cone. Milkshake Madman goes mental…
MM: What? WHAT?!?!? You lied to me!?!? How the fuck does SHE get an ice cream cone and I can’t get a milkshake!!
Poor Cashier: Um, sir, it’s because—
MM: YOU SAID THERE WAS NO ICE CREAM FOR MILKSHAKES. YOU FUCKING LIAR!!
Bad-ass Granny: He did not.
MM: <Ignores BG, continues screaming at PC> HOW COME SHE GETS A CONE AND I CAN’T GET A MILKSHAKE?! HUH!?!?
BG: BECAUSE IT’S THE MILKSHAKE MACHINE THAT’S BROKEN, DUMBASS!!
Me <Where I’m watching from the sidelines> o.o hot damn, go granny!!
MM stares at BG. BG glares back. MM slinks off, defeated.
Cripes, if she hadn’t already paid, I’d’ve bought her a bucket of ice cream, AND asked if I could adopt her as a step-granny.
The end is SO CLOSE…but so far!
Finally, FINALLY I get to the registers. I opt for self checkout, and put my bags down. And wait for an attendant to verify.
And wait.
And wait…
I finally flag down another employee as she walks past and asks if she can get someone to help me. She goes and flags down the SCO attendant, who is apparently over preening his manliness to some female cashiers, in friendly game of pushy shovy, and being all “loookit me work it!” when the female cashier giggles.
*gags*
He wanders over to the SCO stand and pushes a button. I can finally ring my stuff up and start. Three of my items are seed packets, and they don’t weigh enough to register in the bagging area, so I have to skip bagging. Once you do it a 3rd time, the machine says please wait for attendant.
I think you see where this is going…
By this point, I’m irritated. Greatly irritated. The SAME employee from before walks by and again I flag her down.
Me: Hi. Can you go tell the SCO guy to put it back in his pants, and come do his job??
Her:
Me: Yeeeeaaah, you probably think I’m rude and obnoxious, but I’ve watched him for the last 3-4 minutes while my light’s been flashing playing peacock over there. Tell him to table the libido and do his job NOW. Please.
Her: Uh…
And she walks off to get him back to his podium, and I’m finally able to complete my transaction and get the hell out of there.
Thankfully the bus ride home was uneventful, else I might’ve gone batty…
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