conversations at the grocery store

THE DUB

I was in line at the DUB yesterday (which most people, except me, call D & W, our local grocery store), and had the funniest experience with the check out guys (I’ll refer to as lower case cogs because my husband’s med school buddies use the acronym COG as well and I don’t want to create issues). 

This is a total run-on stream of thought and I don't actually feel like adhering to proper form -- this is just all a free wheeling write that was strongly influenced my a steroid med pack that I had to take after not adhering to proper build-up strategies for an active vacation. Anyway . . . a bit of mania ensued, which I knew could happen and ChatGPT (GBT) confirmed. I've been to this rodeo before and not many people are walking away without at least witnessing something unspectacular but confusing and too energetc.

My guy, I guess I can’t say his name because if anyone shops where I live I feel like I’m divulging personal information, so we will call him J, started to check me out - my groceries, not me.  I had placed, for expediency sake, placed my ID on the check out counter and began to set my items at a freakishly fast placed onto the belt.  I knew alcohol was in this order so had thought that I managed that item and off to the races.  J slowly moved through my items without even comment on how I had placed all the refrigerated (meat still more separate), then frozen, then cans (I bought all the ingredients for the wrong recipe), then alcohol, then fruit, etc.  J asked for ID.  I pointed and he stared.  I asked if they did the ten percent off of six bottles of wine.  He stared.  I don’t know.  I ask why.  He says he’s new and then asks the other cog if that is a thing.  The other cog doesn’t know either.  I ask them where they are from?  How do you not know the basics here?  Why would I buy the same wine I could buy at Costco at my grocery store for a greater price if there wasn’t a benefit to my laziness? D says that maybe the DUB closer to home has the policy but he wasn’t sure about his establishment.  Other cog yells over to the manager about the policy.  The manager affirms it. (I do a little celebration of myself and ask if there will be confetti or something because I just helped them in their careers.  I’m literally the customer of the day in that moment). Neither knows how to respond to my enthusiasm. Other cog simply says to D, “If you ever want to know anything, just ask Darius (the manager).  Out of the blue, D yells outs, “Hey Darius, Where is my dad?”  cog and I look at each other because the way he said it sounded like “Where is my bed?”  I didn’t know what exactly we were all thinking because there was a pause.  I have zero gaydar (sp?), but the pink and blue every other fingernails and D’s vulnerability pretty much suggested he was gay but who gives a shit other than when the other cog and I had a blippish pause at trying to figure something out — was he trying to suggest something to cog?  Was I missing something? And then I realized how fucking hilarious D was — he had yelled out, Hey Darius, where is my dad and in our confused fog her said, “No, I know where my dad is . . . he just had foot surgery.”  I joked, “Oh, I thought your were pulling a Sean Hayes — the guy on the Smartless podcast.”  I knew if Andre was standing next to me he would have said, “KRISTEN — of course he doesn’t know that reference.”  D told me that he didn’t have the attention span to listen to podcasts.  Okay — I’ve raised three daughters who have grown up on screens, phones, social media and I get the loss of attention span.  I would hope they could make it through a podcast — not a whole newspaper article or an actual book, but a Podcast?!  I suggested he start doing word puzzles or Mind Games to help his memory.  Then he gets thoughtful and says that he doesn’t remember why, what happened, but around 14 began having concentration issues.  I asked if he had an accident, traumatic brain injury?  He said “No.”  And before I could suggest early heavy substance abuse, he just says, “Trauma.”  There was a quick quiet moment and I was struck by his vulnerability of just saying that just so straight and honest.

I did mention to them, as I wheeled my cart away, that Wednesday was senior day — fifty five and up, ten percent off.