Friday, September 18, 2009

Marleigh & Me: Not So Super Market

I went out to do our grocery shopping yesterday, which should be a banal endeavour. But, there are a whole lot of strange people out there these days, so it wasn't just a errand, it was an adventure. I'll start, as all good stories do, at the end, while I was checking out. The people that work the registers at our market represent an interesting life dichotomy in that they are either really young or super old. Inky and I have learned to avoid lane 7 where the really old lady does her best Target Lady impression by taking her sweet time ringing up your purchases all the while talking about how expensive everything has gotten.

So, I went to lane 9 where I was waited on by a girl, who must have been about 16 named Marleigh. She worked quick enough, and at one point actually thanked me for putting things on the belt in easily baggable groups, which was nice. Then it got weird. As she was ringing up the last few items this happened:
Marleigh: So, how old are your kids?
Me: Huh? I think you have me mistaken for someone else.
Marleigh: Don't you have kids?
Me: Ah... no. Why?
Marleigh: Well... I just thought... because of the stuff you were buying... that you must have kids.
Me: Um, nope. No kids.
Marleigh: Oh. That's a sweet tattoo...."
As I swiped my card she continued to prattle on about my tattoo, even reaching over the belt and touching it at one point. I noticed that the lady behind me was getting pissed (rightfully so) and so I mentioned to her that I'd just like my receipt and to move on. She tore it off and handed it to me and bad me good day. I walked out of the store shaking my head. I couldn't believe how flighty some kids are these days, and I couldn't figure out just what the fuck I had bought that made her think I had kids.

I should have asked how old she thought these kid was, or, at least, what the item was. Was it one thing or a combination of things. I can assure you that my order was quite free of childlike items. There were no snack cakes, lunchables, sugar-laden cereals, juice boxes or fruit roll-ups. Just staples and sundry items like ground beef, chicken breasts, fruits and veggies, deli meat, toilet paper, tea bags, bread, paper towels, some chips and other regular things. I just can't figure it out!

This chick really has me on tilt, and I can't deiced if she was: A) Stupid B) Ignorant C) Oblivious or D) A super genius who knew how to send me into an "I feel really fucking old" tailspin. All I know is this doesn't happen when I do self check out, and I can do that in Spanish and not only get a kick out it but avoid being asked "¿A quĂ© edad son sus hijos?"

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