Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Why I Hate You: Executive CU Next Tuesday



Hi Guys - I need to vent. Can I pull up a chair?

Scene: 8am at the DR. I need my coffee and these days it's in the form of a Starbucks Frappuccino. You know, this kind?

There's a line snaking down the cereal aisle, as usual, because there is only one register open.
In my defense I tried the 'buy it at the pharmacy' trick, but there was a long line there as well.

So I brave the line and set myself behind a squat, sunglass-indoors-wearing, business woman with a shopping carriage. Full carriage, not the hand-held kind.

I wonder immediately what's in there, because no one in a business suit buys their groceries at Duane Reade. Yell all you want, but you know I'm right.

I also think, briefly: Oh, she's probably got snacks for an office party or something. So I sneak a peek.

In her cart. There are. One bag of pretzels. And one single serving size of Special K.

Blood starts to simmer. Granted, she could have a shoulder injury or weak wrists or some shit, but at the point I start to rationalize why this woman would create the school play version of a clogged artery in my Duane Reade with her goddamn cart...she sighs that "I don't have time for this because I'm important" sigh.

Blood boil has hit 'rattle.' But I take a breath because this is just a small part of my day. If I remain calm, a cold frappuccino is waiting for me.

Oh but no. Now, we have what I call "the Y". "The Y" is the dual-pronged line that forms when folks in the main cash area don't realize that there's a line straight down the aisle and therefore form their own line off to the side.

Shopping Carriage heaves another sigh and loudly proclaims: "Excuse me, the line is back here!" Ok, the Y people mumble some apologies and head behind me. I try to smile in the "You know she's crazy, but let's just get through this" manner, but they're not reading me.

Hallelujah! A second line opens! Alright, people, let's make some decisions here!

Here's where it gets ugly. Shopping carriage continues straight to the 1st line, while no one is approaching the 2nd register, wayyyy over on the opposite side of the cashier area. It's pretty obvious her ass ain't moving any time soon.

So I ask her: "Ma'am? Would you mind if I go over to that other register and start a new line?"

Her response: "I don't care."

Me: "Well, I'm asking you."

She: "I don't make the rules."

Me, holding in my wrath: "Ok." And I shuffle off to the open register.

And I hear: "You're supposed to let the the next person in line go next!"

ohnoshedidn't.

Me: "I just asked you if it was ok?!"

She: "Whatever."

Now I'm pissed. I reply: "Well, I'm really sorry. Looks like you've got a lot to carry there. How's it going, by the way? It must be tough for you...managing your cart filled with absolutely NOTHING?!"

::Blank Stare::

So I get to the register, all proud of myself, and here comes Shopping Cart! She's making her way to MY LINE, even though she's next to be rung up at her register. What in blue fuck is wrong with her?

Naturally, like any mature 32 year old, I take as long as humanely possible to complete my transaction. Oh, would I want to add a pack of gum to my total? Hmm....which flavor....Oh and I think I have exact change! Let me....take....a....look....Nope, you go ahead. Oh, I think I have my club card...let'ssssssss....seeeee.......

And after I hear a big sigh from Shopping Cart, I slowly turn around, shine my shiniest smile and wish her a wonderful Tuesday.

Damn hog.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

that rocks...stop going in there!
oh wait that's the point of the blog....duh....

Anonymous said...

Oh wrathos, how i miss thee. Thanks for the big laugh.
--Estranged member of SVH

BNY said...

Fabulous!!!!

That infamous Y forms in almost every Duane Reade in the city ... yea, so, umm... why?

Seriously.

Anonymous said...

thank you its crazy bitches like that that come in to duane reade. loved your comment

Anonymous said...

Duane Reade is a magnet for insane people.

Anonymous said...

so you are one of them, bitchy