At the grocery store, why are there always five scanners and zero baggers? I’d rather wait a little longer in line, even if I need to play defense in the candy zone and constantly redirect the kids’ attention from the educational headlines: “Improve Your Sex Life With These 10 Tips!”, than be required to bag two weeks worth of groceries myself. It’s not that I’m above bagging; I’m a decent enough bagger (even if I perpetually forget to bring my reusable bags). It’s more that I find it incredibly challenging to organize our stock of go-gurts, goldfish and chicken nuggets while simultaneously riding herd on my herd.
I’m puzzling out how to cram the most groceries into the fewest number of paper bags with Small and Medium shaking the row of but-they-only-cost-a-quarter! toys 20 feet away when the laconic teenager says, “S’that your bread?”
There, at the wrong end of the conveyor belt, is my bread. “Yes,” I tell her. “That’s mine.”
“You want it?” she asks.
We stare at one another. My blood is rushing through my veins so quickly my heartbeat has to be audible. I stomp around to the other end of the checkout, nudge the bread onto the belt, return to my unwanted post and resume bagging.
Again, goth girl stops scanning. “Got ID for the wine?”
Again, we stare at one another. I reach for my purse. Except it’s on the other side of the cashier’s station. The side where the customers are supposed to stand. I put an overly full bag in the cart and scrabble around for my driver’s license.
Once upon a time, I was flattered when I was asked to show ID. Now, I’m just irritated. Someday, my testiness is going to get the better of me and an unwitting cashier is going to get an earful of: Are you blind? Can’t you see how old my children are? I’m not wearing any makeup, I haven’t showered in days and I have thirty minutes to get home and everyone fed before T-ball, so please, don’t delay me any longer! As it is, if I didn’t have to bag my own damn groceries, I’d open that screw-top bottle right here and start chugging!
Oh. Now I understand the dearth of baggers.
OINKtales 
12 comments
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June 1, 2011 at 9:05 am
Tori Nelson
I’ve desperately tried to figure out a way to have my groceries delivered to my house. The Mister says this makes me antisocial. I say, exactly.
June 2, 2011 at 11:37 am
Mary the OINKteller
Ha! That’s perfect. I am at my anti-social peak at the grocery store with kids in tow. Slap a time before 10 am on top of that, and you’ve got me at my grumpiest.
June 1, 2011 at 10:56 am
Jenn
Last time the cashier considered carding me, the manager said “It’s OK, she’s in here all the time.” Yes, I buy a lot of wine. It’s necessary.
Also, Healthy Living lets you shop online and I believe they’ll bring the groceries out to your car, if that helps. I don’t do this, but come summertime, I might have to seriously consider it.
June 2, 2011 at 11:41 am
Mary the OINKteller
Love that they recognize you on sight! The trek to S. Burlington might be worth it this summer. At least a few times. The weeks I shopped at HL, we’d have to scale back our dinner expectations to one slice of red hen bread each with 1/2 cup of organic pasta tossed with locally grown peas. 😉
June 1, 2011 at 12:51 pm
Kristen
I agree…maybe the baggers are chugging wine in the back! I have gotten so use to bagging my own things, that I am actually annoyed at how inefficient and slow some baggers are, and even more irate that they bag cold items with pantry items. How dare they? Don’t they put their own groceries away and see how annoying this is? 🙂 I think this is perimenopause setting in…..complete irritation. Miss seeing you 3x weekly!
June 2, 2011 at 11:42 am
Mary the OINKteller
So funny! We could go return to the workforce as baggers, you and I! Don’t say perimenopause! We aren’t there yet!
June 1, 2011 at 2:06 pm
She's a Maineiac
Last time I was carded, I was incredulous as well. I guess my nine year old son, the gray hairs, the giant wrinkle across my forehead or the look of utter mid-life desperation and fatigue aren’t enough to prove I’m 21?! So I laughed at the clerk (who was about 21) and said, “Good lord! You think I’m underage?” and she snidely said, “Uh, no ma’am.(ugh, Ma’am!) We are required by law to card anyone that looks 30 or under.” Oh. Okay. Well, at least she thought I might pass for someone 30something. 😛
June 2, 2011 at 11:43 am
Mary the OINKteller
It’s the worst when they call us Ma’am. I feel like such a mother, you know?
June 1, 2011 at 4:05 pm
Sacha
Oh yes. Now I remember why I get my shopping delivered… Just as well, as in the UK nobody ever bags for you (unless it’s Christmas and the girl guides are raising money for charity or something). But we do at least -mostly – have scanners who are polite and helpful! 🙂
June 2, 2011 at 11:48 am
Mary the OINKteller
I remember trekking to Sainsburys every third day when I was in college. I was shocked to see shelf-stable milk and unrefrigerated eggs. My flatmates were equally shocked when I took up space in our tiny refrigerator to store my eggs and cheese. I ate a lot of sausage in those days. Not to mention the pints of bitter…
June 2, 2011 at 12:39 pm
Alexis
My guy hates shopping and constantly whines about how he wants to stay home and play. To which I say, “I want to stay home and play too. But then we would starve. So we’re going.” Why should I have to shoulder all the unpleasant tasks alone? Share the love – that’s my motto. He’s old enough, I should get him involved with the kitty litter too.
I get mildly annoyed at being carded. But the fantasy that there is the slightest possibility that I might not be of age makes me smile and I happily hand over my card.
My grocery beef is people who butt. Butting in line should be a fine-able offense. When you butt in front of people with kids it should result in immediate store eviction. Seriously if I were king I would institute strict checkout line butting penalties. Just this weekend I was headed into the shortest line only to have somebody race to hop in front of me. I have my angriest “really?!?! seriously?!?!” face to the back of their head whole my little guy tried to see how many snickers bars he could smuggle into the car cart while I wasn’t looking (answer = 7).
June 2, 2011 at 1:26 pm
Mary the OINKteller
I find it shocking that you let anyone get away with butting in front of you! Sometime after Henry was born, when I had lost every ounce of patience and found I could give a shit about decorum in public, I started yelling at people who cut me in line. “Excuse me? Am I wearing invisible paint? This is a LINE. Get behind me.” The only time this doesn’t work is those moments when I can’t get to the register fast enough because someone has lost his/her shoe, his/her foot has just been run over, or I can’t turn the insufferable racecar cart around in one motion. I hate those damn racecars and I bet childless shoppers do too.