When I go to the grocery store, I like to think deep thoughts. Well, they're deep thoughts about groceries and fellow shoppers. I'm kind of a grocery snob, looking into other people's carts and judging them for buying Cheetos instead of fresh vegetables. That sort of thing takes up a lot of my trip. I also spend a certain amount of time frustrated by the elderly, who insist on shuffling soooo slooowly down the middle of the aisle so you can't get around them. I think deep thoughts about how the medicine/soap/kleenex aisle is always packed full of old people, even if the rest of the store is empty, and how there's always a crazy person in the pet food aisle who wants to talk about their cat or dog. I ponder why fake meat is more expensive than real meat, I wonder how hard it is to stock fresh vegetables and dispose of things that are past their prime, I search every week to see if maybe the commissary really does sell buhlgar and I just missed it. Usually just wandering around a store dedicated solely to food and thinking my snobbish deep thoughts is enough to keep me happy (yes, I enjoy grocery shopping!) but today, as an added bonus, I had an adventure in the commissary. Because of this snafu I forgot to buy provalone, but it was otherwise an entertaining diversion. Lest you think I am exagerating by the time I get to the end, I assure you this is a true story, almost verbatim.
So I'm wrapping up my grocery excursion for the week, and I'm pulling into dairy. I grab a gallon of milk in each hand, when bam, I drop one. It split across the bottom and milk was everywhere-- on me, pouring all over the floor, on the other milks and the eggs. I grabbed it quickly and held it upside down so that at least the entire gallon didn't end up on the floor. Ok, I'm thinking, what do I do? I need to tell somebody. I look around, hoping for some kind of grocery fairy, and behold! there is a commissary employee standing right there.
"I dropped a gallon of milk, and it's on the floor," I say rather needlessly, since she saw me drop it.
"You should go tell somebody. Go tell someone in the bakery," she says, which puzzles me because isn't she after all, 'somebody'? But I'm a good sport, so I hoof it back to the bakery. No one is in the bakery, which is typical, so I scoot down to the deli.
"Excuse me," I say to the Korean man running some sort of chicken chopping device. "I dropped a gallon of milk, and it's all over the floor."
"I am very busy. Go tell other lady," he says, pointing at the ladies actually peddling the meat. Still a good sport, and still holding my upside down gallon of milk, I make my way through the old people waiting for their corned beef and approach the Korean lady behind the counter (their nationality serves only to explain their funny English here, all of the employees are equally incompetent.)
"Excuse me, I dropped a gallon of milk and it's all over the floor."
"You drop that milk? Where?"
"Over in the milk section."
"In aisle 20? By milk?"
"Yes, in aisle 20 by the milk."
"Oh," (flustered, as though this was the first recorded milk drop) "I very busy, have many customers. You throw milk away." What?
"Um, well, can you take it?" She grabs a plastic deli bag and holds it out for me to put the milk in it, over the really high meat counter, and together we get it in there. She then attempts to give the milk back to me, right side up in the bag. Milk, of course, comes pouring out into the unsealed bag.
"No!" I yell, and she turns it on its side and sets it on the counter. I breathe a sigh of relief that I don't have to try to ask for a second cleanup. "I don't want it back. Can you throw it out and just call somebody with a mop to go clean up the milk on the floor?"
"Well, I very busy. Have many customer, I not have time... oh, milk spill out!" She says, as the milk comes leaking out of the bag onto the counter.
"All you have to do is throw the milk in the garbage can and call someone with a mop."
"Look at all the customer. I very busy." She gestured to the flock of old people, who were greatly amused by this little scene. At this point, Korean Lady is joined by German Lady.
"I dropped a gallon of milk and there's a big mess. Can you throw out the milk and call someone to clean it up?" I try again.
"We don't even sell milk in this department." German lady says.
"Of course you don't. I dropped it over by the milk. I am telling you about it so that someone can clean it up."
"You should have gone and told a cashier."
"Yes, but unfortunatley I am here, telling you about it now. All you have to do is throw the milk away and call someone with a mop." I hear old people giggling behind me. Korean lady has disappeared. German lady grabs the bag of milk and throws it in the garbage can. She looks at me, annoyed.
"Where did you spill the milk?"
"Over by the milk."
"Over there, in aisle 20?" she points at the milk, which is clearly visible from where we are standing, as are the people trying to avoid the giant puddle of milk on the floor.
"Yes, in aisle 20. Where they sell milk." Apparently it doesn't count unless you actually say the words 'aisle 20' and indicate that they do in fact sell milk there.
(Big German sigh.) "Ok, thank you. We will call someone to clean it up." Korean lady appears behind me with a giant garbage bag, apparently ready to be of some assistance. German lady indicates that she has taken care of it, crabbily, and the now-crabby Korean lady departs with her garbage bag. I pass the laughing old people, who are wondering amongst themselves why it was so difficult to call for a cleanup. At least they were on my side.
As I make my way back over to dairy, where my cart was still sitting in the giant puddle of milk, I hear over the loudspeaker,
"Someone with mop clean up spill. By milk."
0 comments:
Post a Comment