I am a very good, if not excellent patron of the Big Y Supermarket in Groton. I figure I spend about $10,000 a year there on groceries. I used to enjoy the shopping experience there. I would go early in the morning, taking my time within the aisles planning my family's meal for the week. The produce selection is great, and so is the meat selection. The prices are very good and so are the weekly specials. Once I was finished shopping, I would proceed to the self check-out where I could put my groceries through at my leisure, separating cold items from shelf items, meats from veggies, and chemicals from food. I would bag my groceries in my reusable bags, being careful not to load them too heavily and not smushing my bread and eggs.
Then came the fateful morning when I finished my shopping and headed over to the self check-outs to find that someone had taken them away. I was crushed. How could they do this to me? Did they not know that my sanity was hanging on by a thread as it was? I could feel my face getting hot as my blood pressure started to climb. I asked one of the cashiers about the mayhem. She said that the contract with the company was up and that the self check-outs were more hassle than good. I was so upset that I thought for an instant I would have to start going up the hill to the Stop & Shop. I was devastated.
I lodged a formal complaint with the Big Y company, to no avail. My self check-outs were never returned to me. With a heavy heart, I returned faithfully to Big Y to do my weekly shopping. I would have to endure the cashiers and the baggers. I told myself that maybe it wouldn't be that bad...maybe I could find a pair that were able in their jobs. I'm still on the hunt, and it has been six long months.
This morning I went to Big Y as I normally do, with one child in tow. He was relatively well behaved this morning, so my blood pressure was still at a normal level. I finished my shopping with little aggravation, except for the fact that the only milk available to purchase was dated for Saturday. I ended up buying to half gallons, spending $1.50 more than what I should have if the gallons were fresh. But I digress. I made my way to the check out lines. Only one was open, so I pulled in the cart, got out my gnarled shopper's card, and handed over my green bags. After slamming them down on the table, the cashier preceded to ring me out. There was no bagger available at the time, so I figured once I had everything on the belt, I could bag myself. I was pushed out of the way by another idle cashier, claiming that she could handle the bagging. Fine...I said. The cashier ringing me out did not put the bread and hot dog rolls aside, so I had to reach over and rescue them before the 12 pack of soda crushed the life out of them. I could feel my face starting to get hot. Meanwhile, the bagging cashier is literally throwing my items into the bags, stuffing them in without rhyme or reason. Then she piled them into the cart, one on top of the other, without any regard for what was getting smashed underneath. My face was getting hotter. The ringing cashier asks for a silver coin, which I hand her. She threw it onto the adjoining table, gave me the total and then slammed the cash drawer. I held out my hand for a new coin and my receipt. She ignored my waiting hand and threw them down on the table in front of me. The whole time I'm watching this I'm wondering what I did to upset this woman this morning. I gathered up my purse and my son, and pulled out of the line, without so much as a "have a good day" from the cashier. I pulled over to inspect the carnage that were once my groceries. I had to repack everything. The cucumbers, that we eat raw, were in the meat bag, along with the onions and lettuce. The lettuce was on the bottom of the bag. The bread and hot dog rolls were in the same bag with the glass jars of tomato sauce and a half gallon of grape juice. The bottoms of the rolls were already flattened, and I hadn't even moved more than five feet from the check-out line. The eggs were jammed in to another bag, on their side, with a half gallon of milk adjacent. Michael's donut was flattened by another jar of tomato sauce. We went to the car, where I proceeded to heave $100 worth of groceries shoved into three bags into the trunk. I am amazed at the tensile strength of canvas, being able to hold fifty pounds of groceries in one bag. After I get them in, I check myself for hernias, knowing full well that I will probably have one after lugging these bags up the stairs. I now realize that housewives need to become Hercules to do the simplest chores: grocery shopping, laundering wet towels, getting the lids off of jars, etc.
By this time, my blood pressure was high enough that I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I decided to just leave, because I could feel a meltdown coming on. One of these days, they are not going to be so lucky. Either I will have the meltdown in the store, and then the men with the white coats will come and collect me, or I will make the manager cry, one of the two.
The moral of the story is: if you don't want to work with the public on a daily basis, please don't become a cashier. Become a night janitor and clean toilets. You won't have to talk to anyone. And if you don't know the basics of packing a grocery bag, that milk + bread = mush, please don't become a bagger. Become a wine maker instead...all they do is smush things. Just please don't subject me to your bulls**t...I shovel enough of that when I go to the post office.
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