Warning to Main Line Genuardi’s Shoppers
Maybe it’s the horrible heat wave we all just suffered through that’s making me miserable, I don’t know. Or maybe it’s just my middle-age curmudgeon showing, but I’ve got a beef that I can’t stay silent about any longer. There are lots of things in life that piss me off. You know, things like people who park so close that you can’t open your door, or people who interrupt while you’re speaking, or women who pee all over the toilet seat, or people who think that everyone just adores their dog or their kid, or cashiers that ask me for a dollar, “just a dollar, ma’am” for charity in front of everyone else in line thereby employing the embarrass-her-into-giving method of extortion. If I don’t donate “just a dollar” then everyone behind me knows I’m a child/dog/cancer-cure-hating bitch. Yea, that stuff pisses me off. But here’s the thing that sent me over the edge last week. The express line.
I know Joey Vento has an issue with customers not understanding English, but I’m pretty sure everyone at the Genuardi’s in St. Davids can read “15 items only.” Well, you would think, right? You’ve seen the drill: Well-coiffed woman looks into her cart, realizes she’s way over the limit, glances to her right and left to make sure some psychotic maniac like me isn’t standing around (I yell at them and make them move into another line) then strolls into the express line staring straight ahead obnoxiously ignoring the death glare of everyone around. Does the cowardly cashier say anything? Nope. They can strong-arm me for “just a dollar” in front of the entire Main Line, but do they say anything to the bitch with an overflowing cart? Not on your life.
What gives? I mean, really, what the hell is up with that? Her time is more valuable than mine? Just a few more than 15 is okay? It’s a suggestion, not really a rule? I tell you, it drives me insane. And while the cashier is ringing up her 24 items do you think she’s bagging? Well of course not, you’d have to put down your cell phone to do that and come on, have a heart, she’s in the middle of a great story about her cute kid or adorable dog. Then she pays with a debit card and wants cash back and by the time she’s finished I’m feverishly rummaging around in my handbag for a Valium. And then it happens. The thing that puts me entirely into spasm.
The cashier asks her if she’d like to donate a dollar, just a dollar, to the fill-in-the-blank charity. Naturally she does. Valium anyone?