If I want to visit the store without the entire entourage, I go late at night. The entertaining antics of late night shoppers is just an extra bonus. Friday I needed to visit the red bullseye store for diapers. I grabbed the diapers and wandered the clearance racks because it’s a sickness and I can’t help myself. Then, I went to the checkouts. I stood in line behind a woman telling the cashier that she would be returning her sweater if it stretched, shrunk or got damaged in the laundry. “This cost twenty dollars and I want my money back if it gets messed up in the laundry.” The cashier tried to tell her that she would need to work that out with customer service, but she wouldn’t quit until she had spoken her mind. I zoned out on her laundry woes because I was focused on a man at the next checkout. He was berating a cashier because she was closing out her drawer and couldn’t stop mid-process to check him out. “So you are saying you WON’T check me out.” “Sir, this lane is closed. Any of the lanes with lights on can check you out.” He let her know that he would be filing a complaint because she was standing at a cash register and refusing to do her job. At that point I realized that my cashier was waiting . . . and waiting some more, for me to unload my cart. I apologized to him and smiled, but he was clearly drained and not amused with my eavesdropping instead of paying attention. I still didn’t think that I was the same kind of crazy customer as the other two customers.
I found a teeny-tiny sport bra that was really just a tank top with a bare midriff on a clearance rack for dollar. I thought it was hysterically funny after Amy’s constant insistence that she needs a bra. Amy was thrilled. Her grandparents were not. They were the opposite of thrilled. They think I belong in the same category as the other late night bullseye store shoppers. I think the world has lost its’ sense of humor.