4:22 p.m. - 2005-04-14
So Sunday, after I hung out with GID for a while, I decide to go to the grocery store on my way home. I didn't feel like dealing with the Evil Empire (plus, on Sunday night, there is like no food in the store anyway after the screaming hordes have run through the place all weekend). Instead, I choose to go to this new grocery store (Crest, for you Okies).
At first, I'm thinking this is a lovely decision on my part. It's clean, it's shiny, the prices are good, and the selection is good. Except for the milk. I wanted this organic milk. Not really because I give a flying shit about what the dairy farmers do to the cows, but because it stays fresh way longer. (And this seems very suspect to me...if it's supposed to be all preservative-free and hormone-free, how the hell does it stay drinkable for six weeks? Organic, my ass.) They did not have any on the shelf. I ask the little employee in the dairy section if there's any more in the back. He was all smiling and friendly and went to look. I waited by the double doors...leaving my cart at the other end of the row.
He comes back out, tells me they don't have any, but they will tomorrow. I select a different variety, stick it in my cart, and party along...get some lunchmeat, cheese, bread, frozen dinners...and proceed to the register.
That's when I notice.
It wasn't my cart.
In the bottom was a bunch of stuff I didn't even buy...Juicy Juice and kiddie food. The checkers are making fun of me. I go BACK to the milk section, grab my real cart, leave the alien one there and hope I didn't totally piss someone off, and go back to the register.
This is when I realize that perhaps the whole Crest shopping experience is not for me.
The checker keeps making all these editorial comments about my purchases. I bought some flavored coffee (the kind you grind yourself at the store), and I bought a lot, because I loves me my caffeine, so it was like $10. She freaks out. I tell her that I of course still wish to purchase the coffee. Then, when my order is finished, the total is about $55. Well, apparently, that's a lot for only 23 items (keep in mind that the $10 coffee was part of this). She gives me this spiel about "most people have a LOT more items than that for THAT MUCH MONEY."
Do I look like I give a fuck? I'm all about the convenience foods. Bite me, bitch. When you quit living at home where mommy packs your lunch every day, then you can talk to me about my food selection.
Finally, my order is being sacked. In PAPER bags.
Let me explain. When I was a cashier (in high school), they told us only to use paper upon specific request from the customer, because the paper bags are way more expensive than the plastic ones. Of course, for a long time, this meant I ALWAYS asked for paper bags...that was in my younger, parents supporting me, fuck the man days. Plus, that was when I lived DOWNSTAIRS. Upstairs, it's all about the handles, baby.
This store had no plastic bags. I therefore made the sacker chick (who was actually very nice) cram each and every one of my twenty-three items in two bags. I was not even making two trips after that.
Crest has been rejected. But I think (BFRB and my fingers are crossed), we are getting a nearby Super Target. At least they're doing some sort of major construction on the Target closest to us. If it really is, no more Adventures at the Evil Empire. Seriously.
And now, I have a shameful confession to make.
Due to the fact that, at my temp assignment, I am unable to communicate reliably with the outside world (like, no one can call me and offer me my dream job), I had to do it.
I had to get a fucking cell phone.
I hate cell phones. I wrote all about it here. Sometimes, I like being mysterious and unavailable.
And spare me the lecture about how you can just ignore them. Sure, you can. But you still have to listen to it ring and have the guilt for the ignore.
I will say, though, that I'm having fun with the "new toy" aspect of it. Everyone I know has an individual ring...and the next step will be downloading new ones that really fit their personalities. And some new little pictures to look at. And I made it say "Hi Loopy" on the screen when I open it.
I did use it today...once to call my placement chick back (I hadn't had a chance to give her the number), and then GEB called. Of course. Even after the e-mail I sent about not abusing the love during business hours unless it was an EMERGENCY.
Silly me. With him, everything tends to be an emergency. I gave him a really annoying salsa-music ring, too. *snicker*
Once again, due to the incompetence of the copy/scanning service, we got off early today...and we also got paid for about two hours of not working. They want us to come in Saturday, I think, but I may just bail on that shit. Yeah, I need money, but working last Saturday caused us to not work Wednesday...so why should I give up my weekend? Decisions, decisions. I guess I'll see what happens tomorrow.
Also, I have an interview tomorrow with a good (translate: high-paying) firm. And the placement chick today said the office manager at the company from which I was laid off wants me back for a while.
That, I will have to think about. If she promises me a permanent job, I'm there. I loved working there. It was the perfect combination of the big-company salary with the small-company treating your employees. If she doesn't promise me a permanent job, I will really have to consider it.
One last story. See today's time waster, but my new gay best friend (another paralegal at the temp job...we sit next to each other and talk shit all day) was talking today about his completely anal-retentive shirt-folding method. So, during the time while we were sitting around doing nothing, he's looking at websites, and finds this shirt origami thing. He didn't have a t-shirt to practice with, or he would have done it right there. Instead, he's going home and has promised a demonstration tomorrow.
This boy also has a little lunch cooler with a dangling ducky charm, and his significant other packs his lunch every day.
I told him he needed to bring snacks to share with the class.
Why can't straight men do shit like that?