Customer Appreciation

 (Crabby-pants Thursday)

A friend of mine texted me this week, asking if I’d been at our neighborhood grocery store the day before. I had, in fact, and said so. She said she’d seen me at the end of the soda aisle, and I’d looked right at her, turned away, and left.

I had no recollection of this but apologized. Then I recalled what it was that had made me ignore her and push my cart on to the cereal aisle.

When I’d first entered the soda aisle, a late-teen, early-twenties stocker was loading up the shelves with Pepsi while chatting with what must have been a friend hanging around as he worked. Okay, I’m being judgy, but friend looked like getting out of high school must have been a challenge (assuming he did), and who apparently had nothing better to do at 11:30 on a weekday morning.

Okay, fine. I taught for twenty years and I’m used to goofball guys.

But then as I got closer, I could hear the conversation. What there was of it, because it was mostly a diatribe from the stock guy about his job. I thought as I approached – me being a happy customer and all – he’d pause and finish after I left, but no.

Three feet away, as I reached for the ginger ale, he continued full volume with, “Yeah, this f***ing job and my f***ing boss, I mean what the sh**, and then he wants me to come in on f***ing Saturday, and . . .”

That was when I turned my cart and left, with plans to shop in another area till they were done.