What, Coupons?!?

There are some who eat, before eating: appetizers. Some sleep before bed: napping. Today, I went to the store before going to the store: I call that silly. As the unemployed one in our household the responsibility of grocery shopping falls on me. Normally I don't mind, but depending on my mood, it can be an exercise in patience and anger management.

The lovely & talented Mrs. eSquared was feeling sick this evening so I went to get some fizzy water, other soda and something for her lunch tomorrow. My cart is loaded with carbonated beverages by the two-liter bottle, and I am rounding the corner heading for the U-check isle. I can taste freedom.

Earlier, I noticed an older lady interrogating one of Fred Meyer's worker-bees about why he was moving a cart full of Wheaties boxes. I didn't hear what she said, but his reply was something like, "...we have to move this isle because we're putting another freezer unit where this one is." He continues to stack boxes from the cart. "Well ma'am, I don't know what they will put in there... I was told to move these boxes." For a moment, he had my sympathy. A cold, crowian chill crept down my spine as I continued my search for things fizzy.

So... the taste of freedom. I round the corner, and there she is; the Wheaties inquisitor. She stops me cold. Before I realize its her, she says to me, "What kind of coupon deals are there"?

I am not a coupon shopper. I'm not even a comparison buyer. I grab the closest, and most visible items along my pre-planned route through the store. All the while whispering to myself, "The shortest distance between two points is a straight line." or "Move that cart to one side of the isle, and no one will get hurt."

This lady could have said anything to me...
"You dropped a fifty."
"What a wonderful day it is."
"How about a quickie, young man"?

... and I would have responded the same.

"What"?

The gears in my head recover, and I recognize her as the Wheaties lady. My eyes narrow when I notice her unchanged focus to the bottom of my cart.

"What kind of coupon deals are there"? ... still focused on the bottles of soda.

"I'm sorry... I don't understand."

"Your coupons." she says, pointing to the coupon flier UNDER six bottles of pop.

Without averting her gaze, she REACHES into my cart, shoves the bottles aside and retrieves the flier. "Do you mind if I take a look..."?

"It's yours." I reply, and speed my way to the self-check line.

I never seem to learn. When I get in the line, there are no other people waiting, and there's one station that APPEARS open. Of course its not. The other three stations are occupied with the very reason there are professional checkers. Not only do professional checkers KNOW HOW to operate the scanners, buttons, scales and bags, but they are PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY competent to do so.

Meanwhile... the ONE checker-supervisor person that oversees the u-check-train-wreck is running her ass off between the three other monkeys trying to scan produce.

I just roll my eyes and curse myself for not going to another line.